


King of Corners

by versus_versus



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Amnesia, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Hux, Human Disaster Kylo Ren, Hux Has No Chill, M/M, Mercenaries, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Kylo Ren, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Sniper Hux, Snoke Being a Dick, a different Snoke identity theory, a sassy little droid, the world needs more Calrissians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 91,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versus_versus/pseuds/versus_versus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Starkiller, Kylo returns from training to find that Hux has thrown himself into his work with a terrifying fervor. He’s set gears in motion for the creation of a bigger, better Starkiller, and if there’s one thing Kylo can’t handle, it’s the destruction of another system. When all else fails, Kylo forces the memories of the destruction of the Hosnian system into Hux’s head.</p><p>It’s too much for Hux, and the memories drive him to the brink of insanity. In an act of desperation, Kylo relents…but memory removal is a tricky procedure, and Kylo is more of a cleaver than a scalpel.</p><p>Left with a General that doesn’t know his own name, Kylo does the only reasonable thing: commandeers a ship and makes for the far side of the galaxy with a memoryless Hux in tow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _“Here. Where I am anonymous and alone in a white room with no history and no parading. So I can make something unknown in the shape of this room. Where I am King of Corners. ”_

The chrono on his desk glowed a gentle 0400 hours. Those on board the Finalizer not on first shift were off duty, or arriving for the second of the six four-hour shifts of the day. The rest of the ship ought to have been asleep. 

Not General Hux, though. Sleep was for the weak, the damned, the failures.

He stared, unblinking, at the holoblueprint he’d assembled over the last four days. Four days without sleep, sending orders to the bridge but not showing up. Trusting his crew to handle the pedestrian matters aboard the Finalizer, leaving Lieutenant Colonel Mitaka in charge.

It was a reasonable decision, he told himself, promoting Mitaka so quickly. So much of their command staff had been lost at Starkiller, and the poor bastard was one of the few truly competent people left on board the Finalizer. As much as he might annoy Hux with his overly-detailed reports, he was competent, top of his graduating class at the Academy.

 _Competent. What a stupid word._ He’d been more than simply ‘competent’ and look where it’d gotten him. Hovering in empty space, waiting for that useless cock-up of a Knight to finish his ‘training’, the nonsense that Supreme Leader Snoke claimed would make him stronger.

Since dropping Kylo Ren off on that miserable excuse for a planet, he’d stood down, as ordered. The Finalizer hung in the stagnant space of the Horuset System, awaiting further orders. She contained a high percentage of the evacuees from Starkiller, and morale was low. How could you explain to the crew of an entire star destroyer that they were under orders to wait for a single man? That he was completing some sort of mystical training with the Supreme Leader, something that would supposedly make him nearly indestructible?

Quite frankly, he was starting to have doubts about the Supreme Leader’s claim to power. Where had Snoke been when Starkiller had crumbled around him? He certainly hadn’t been helping Ren, who’d been wrecked within an inch of his life by the scavenger. Hux had watched the girl limp away from the fight even as Ren lay dying, staring at him for a long minute across the crevasse that had seemed to open up like an empty maw, ready to swallow them all down into the belly of the beast.

Where had Snoke been when Ren had needed him? Where had he been when the Rebellion had come for revenge? Starkiller had been their ace in the everlasting game with the Resistance. It had been their winning hand, the guaranteed victory in a conflict with stakes that had, up until its unveiling, been mutually destructive. A single blow and the war should have been over, the galaxy theirs for the taking. But no. The girl, the traitor, and the smuggler had given the Resistance an opening, and Snoke had left them high and dry.

Hux ran his hand through the glowing lines of the hologram that hovered above his desk, watching as they wavered and flicked about a single ungloved hand. Snoke was a hologram, as real as the ghosts and imaginations that had haunted Hux’s childhood. When they’d needed Snoke, he’d failed them. And what kind of leadership was that?

“Tch.” He spit the sound between pursed lips and flung his stylus down on the desk in irritation.

Snoke was little more than smoke and mirrors. But Starkiller? Starkiller had been tangible, an inescapable representation of the Order’s power. They didn’t need Snoke.

They needed Starkiller. And damn if he wasn't going to make that a reality.

* * *

Days passed. The blueprints progressed.

His greatcoat hung on the back of his door, untouched. He stayed in his quarters; there was no need for it there. Droids delivered food, sometimes returning to find everything spotless, more often returning to take an untouched tray away. Once, a bowl went missing. A custodial droid found it the next day, shards of shattered ceramic carefully tucked away in the wastebin.

To anyone on the outside, it might appear that he was sulking, perhaps mourning the destruction of Starkiller, the brainchild he’d spent the better part of his career perfecting. The original design for the behemoth had been hidden deep in the records of the old Empire and resurrected by the Order. Hux suspected Snoke had a hand in all of it, from his brief stint as a lower ranking field officer to his expedited rise through the ranks after his untimely injury, but ultimately it didn't matter. Hux was at the top of the ladder, and his charge, Starkiller, had been blown to bits. He had every right to be angry, upset.

But outsiders would be wrong. General Hux did not _sulk_.

He _planned_.

When things went wrong, he strategized, he fixed his failures. He learned from his mistakes and shored them up so that he would not fail again. The fall of Starkiller base certainly hadn’t been his fault, but he felt the shame of it all the same.

Starkiller itself had been designed with no inherent flaws. A few weak points, clearly, but nothing that should have caused the catastrophic failure that had occurred. He bristled as he remembered Ren’s failure to protect the Order’s most valuable asset from the Rebellion, from his own father, no less. Han Solo’s death had been the spark that had started a forest fire, an improbable man doing the impossible yet again even in death. Clearly, history repeated itself.

Weakness. Family was a weakness. Attachments were a weakness. Sometimes he thought that maybe he cared about Ren, that somewhere between the furious fucks that helped them both to focus on other tasks at hand and Ren nearly bleeding out in the snow he’d remembered how to care about someone. He would never tell Ren. His father would have called him ‘emotionally compromised’.

The only thing that ought to have compromised him was Starkiller’s fall, and really, it had been tangible for such a short time in his life that thinking of it, decimated, bits of a once-living planet’s corpse spinning through the galaxy, was like dreaming of a ghost.

* * *

Hux slept when he found he couldn’t keep his eyes open even with excessive amounts of caf. His early dreams were hellscapes, the remains of Starkiller cartwheeling through space, the empty nothingness of whatever planet he would turn into a new superweapon, hijacked with a parasite that quickly rampaged the planet’s systems and turned them to the purposes of the Order.

Other parts of the cycle plunged him back into deep concentration as the weight of it all pressed in on him. The weight of Starkiller’s destruction. Even as they’d made their escape, he’d known it wasn’t over. He was an engineer, with the mind of a man that started drafting new blueprints in his head even as the old base burned. Starkiller II was already a shining metal and molten beast before they’d dropped Kylo Ren off on that forsaken lump of rock, and from the moment he’d been able to escape the crew to start designing it for real, he’d plunged into dangerous headspace.

Hux collapsed inward, much the way Starkiller did. Then he rebuilt himself, wanting more than just success. He wanted the galaxy, he wanted to rip the universe apart and rebuild his legacy on the pieces. He’d always been driven but now he found himself consumed with simple, burning _want_.

He dreamed. Dreams of glory, of a pristine white cloak spilling from his shoulders and the rank of Grand Admiral, of a crown of golden laurels in his hands, of firepower that threatened to bring the galaxy to its knees. He dreamt of crowning the next emperor, of commanding the entirety of the Imperial Fleet.

During waking hours, the galaxy narrowed down to his quarters. Hux lost himself in the CAD program, flipping between the original drafts of Starkiller, the final blueprints, and the proposed changes with blinding speed. When his eyes finally started to falter from staring at the bright lines for hours on end, he grudgingly dug a pair of reading glasses out of his desk and kept going.

* * *

_It isn’t their place_ , he thought when the officers began to ask after his wellbeing. It started with careful questions on the Command channel on his comm, framed as simple concern for their CO. At the start, he confirmed that he was indeed well, but before long he began to ignore any and all inquiries.

It came to a head when Phasma came to his personal quarters. Phasma, with her learned-but-sharp accent and slightly feral edges, now that she walked the halls of the Finalizer without her armor. Phasma, who was a voice of reason in a world that seemed to be spinning out of his control, who told him he was needed on the bridge.

He stood up from where he’d been hunched at his desk, rolling his shoulders as he straightened only to hear the joints pop from being in the same place for so long. “Whatever it is, Mitaka can handle it.”

“Sir, with all due respect, Lieutenant Colonel Mitaka is not on duty at all hours of the cycle. And more importantly, rumors are starting to circulate that…” She hesitated.

“That I what, Captain? That I took to my quarters and now spend my time drinking myself into a stupor?”

“Among other things, sir.”

His expression was cold, disdainful. Certainly he’d seen better days, and it’s true that the cycles seemed to have blended together in the haze of sleeplessness and the frantic buzzing frequency of too much caf. He glanced at the chrono and sighed. “I’ll be on the bridge for the next shift.”

“Yessir.” She nodded, brisk and smart. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

His expression softened a bit. “Say whatever you need to.”

She relaxed visibly. “Two things then. One, it’s been days since anyone has seen you, and it’d be best for troop morale to see you in top shape.” She made a vague motion toward her own face, and he realized she was pointing out the scruff that he had neglected to shave. “Maybe post a new speech to the holonet?”

Speech writing had been the furthest thing from his mind, but he took it into consideration. “And two?”

“May I ask what’s kept you holed up in here?”

She didn’t miss the vicious smile that split his face, an uncommon expression for him. “Allow me to show you.”

Phasma listened to him in silence, watching him manipulate the holo with deft fingers, spinning the glowing blueprint and discussing the innumerable features. He skipped over the things he’d left the same, although they were few and far between. He’d stripped the original blueprints for Starkiller down to the bare bones and rebuilt her from the core up.

Her breath finally caught when he delved into the reactor, dragging the blueprints open and spreading them halfway across his quarters, trusting the projectors to keep up with him as they whirred and adjusted the scale. He rattled off the specs of the beast, nearly as familiar with them as with his own skin.

When he finally turned back to her, her face was astonished, cast in an eerie blue in the glow of the holo. “You…did all of this?”

“Starkiller wasn't exclusively my design. It held flaws, flaws that I pointed out during construction, but fixing them without stripping the plans down and adjusting everything would have been inefficient. This design is still incomplete, but who could better design its successor?” His eyes bordered on manic in the colored light of the converter. “Ideally, this one could handle larger stars, and take more than one shot per star, with a similar end output. Something more than a red dwarf, at least. I’d have to run the numbers to be sure. What do you think?”

She took it all in, her expression sliding from respect to something approaching fear as she saw the intensity in his face. Hux on a warpath was a man that would tear apart the galaxy to achieve peace.

“It looks brilliant, sir.”

* * *

After she’d left, he sighed and set to work. If he was wanted on the bridge, it wouldn’t do to be late.

Simple steps, a routine he’d followed almost every day for the last two decades. Shave, shower, dress. As he shaved, he flicked through reports on his datapad, categorizing and committing issues from the past few days to memory. He would address them on the bridge, and they’d regret doubting his absolute control of the ship’s command.

He dressed, pulling on his day-to-day uniform with quick familiarity. Coded rank cylinders in his breast pocket. Hat on his head. The greatcoat tossed over his shoulders. A deep breath as he walked out the door, rolling his shoulders back and raising his chin to project an image of authority.

The click of his boots on the glossy floor was comforting, something familiar in a world that still danced with the holo-blueprints etched on the inside of his eyelids. An odd feeling seemed to stick in his gut, not helped by the double-takes the people he passed gave him. Rumors be damned.

* * *

His appearance on the bridge caused a mild stir, although it settled quickly. Lieutenant Colonel Mitaka quickly brought him up to date and he spent the next few hours discussing operations and how things had proceeded without him.

Away from his desk at last, exhaustion and fatigue threatened to come crashing in, but there was no time for that nonsense.

Hux ordered a cup of caf.

* * *

His appearances on the bridge once again became regular. Reports were finished and he moved on to squashing the rumors that had grown by filming a speech and posting it to the holonet, required viewing for all 'troopers. Things quickly returned to normal, even though almost all his off-duty hours were spent slogging through the finer points of the blueprints. Three days later, one of the Lieutenants spoke up.

“General Hux, sir, we’re receiving a message from Moraband. Direct orders from Supreme Leader Snoke.”

Hux stood up from his seat at the console, rolling his shoulders back as he did so. “Yes Lieutenant, bring it on line.”

“It’s not a holo, sir. Just a transcription.”

“And?”

“It doesn’t appear to be classified.”

The irritation in Hux’s voice was clear. “Read it.”

“Transcription begins: Orders are to send a shuttle for Kylo Ren. He is ready.”

“Of course. He’s finished his _training_.” The entire command crew caught the general's sneer. “Fine. We treat that as our standing order, then. Comm Hangar 8 to prepare a shuttle to retrieve Lord Ren.”

Mitaka hesitated at his side, sensing there was more to his aggravation than just his tone. “Sir?”

“Don’t question me. It’s an order from the Supreme Leader. I may not be happy about retrieving a useless magician who can’t hold his own against a child from that forsaken hunk of rock, but I’m not about to go against Snoke’s orders,” Hux snapped.

The bridge fell silent as the crew realized Hux was walking a fine line between criticism of Kylo Ren and criticism of the Supreme Leader. If most of them agreed with him wholeheartedly, they held their tongues. They knew where their loyalties lay, having been hand-picked for Command by the General. If it came down to it, they would follow him anywhere, even if that path was treason against the order.

Mitaka looked at Hux and wondered when he’d become willing to follow the General into hell, despite the risks. “Yes, sir.”

“Send a shuttle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning and name of this work are from Michael Ondaatje
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta [betweenheroesandvillains](http://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenheroesandvillains)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr at versus-verses
> 
> Comments, critiques, and questions always appreciated!


	2. Decomposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Though the rest of this fic steps away from this material, this chapter contains a fair amount of psychological torture and some really nasty mental stuff.
> 
> The fun stuff starts next chapter, this one's a bit long and full of headgames.

When his shuttle first arrived planetside, Kylo Ren was unceremoniously hauled inside and dumped into a bacta tank.

The next few days were a blur of drugs and the wavering blue of the outside world as seen through the curved glass.

When he was conscious, voices called out to him. The echoes of the Hosnian system still echoed about in his skull, vibrating with fear and the screams of the dying. He could hear Han Solo’s voice, the scavenger’s scream, Chewie’s string of curses. Behind closed eyelids he could see the red glow of Starkiller’s charging process, but when he opened his eyes it was no better. Open eyes brought about memories of his grandfather’s lightsaber in the hands of the traitor and the scavenger, flashing desperately in the forest.

* * *

A robot eventually released him from the tank, partially draining the fluid and pulling him from it with claws that left marks, although they didn't puncture his skin. It dumped him on a plastic-covered gurney and rolled out the door, out of sight.

Once he’d gathered his wits, he climbed to his feet, slowly testing if his legs would hold his weight. He saw his reflection in the glass of the tank, naked skin still slicked wet from the bacta. The gash in his face had healed, leaving a faintly discolored swipe but nothing too terribly disfiguring. The part of it that extended to his shoulder was healed as well, although not as cleanly, resulting in a puckered, discolored patch.

Hunger hadn’t set in just yet, although he knew it would soon. Removal from bacta submersion was unkind to the body, and this was no exception. He felt weak and lightheaded, frail as a newborn babe. He bent, one arm on the wall for support as he struggled. The world, the pressure, it was all too much. He couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“Kylo Ren.” The voice was smooth, soothing, the tone familiar as though he'd heard it before. He turned, reflexes sending him to a crouch like a cornered animal, ready to attack whoever had snuck up on him.

It was an unassuming woman, probably close to his mother’s age, with salt-and-pepper hair and dark hooded eyes. Everything about her said ‘caretaker’ and he relaxed a bit as he took her in. Her clothes screamed 'medic'. She wore a robe over long sleeves and pants, with a plastic apron over the top, likely to keep bodily fluids from staining. Nothing else about her seemed to be of note.

He held out a shaking hand, trying to read her mind with the Force, but found that she was a brick wall. Her mouth turned in a small smile. “Supreme Leader Snoke has been waiting for you. When you are dressed and have had a short time to recover, I am to take you to the visitation chamber.”

“You’re a Force user? Who are you?” The words shook as he shivered, air running across wet skin and chilling him to the bone.

“Of course. Most here are, the few of us that remain.” She shrugged. “And I don’t have much of a name these days. They call me the Doctor, when they bother to call me anything.”

“Who?”

“The Supreme Leader. The Others in this place.”

“Where is this?”

She took a quiet breath, her expression unreadable. “Moraband.”

The name conjured images of the Sith of old, powerful shadows that had long been laid to rest. “And…Snoke is here?”

“Snoke is everywhere. But yes, here in particular.” The Doctor looked at him mildly, but the implications struck home. Whoever she was, whoever the ‘Others’ she spoke of were, they were dangerous and almost guaranteed Force users. He would have to tread carefully here, if he wanted to survive. “You’ll need to get dressed. There are clean robes on the cot, and a refresher around the corner to fix yourself up. We’ll discuss any questions you have on the way to the visitation chamber.”

* * *

Kylo did as he was instructed, cleaning as quickly as his fatigue would allow him and dressing with shaking hands. The Doctor reappeared, although he was unsure if she’d ever left, and nodded to him to follow her.

Leaving the infirmary, they entered a long hall. It was a strange combination of durasteel and stone, as though someone had shored up a stone tunnel with beams and cemented it all with exposed rebar.

The history in that place was an ancient heartbeat, something that ran deep under the stone, possibly through the very core of the planet. The heart of the planet was a real thing, throbbing with power that had existed for millennia. His skin crawled with anticipation and fear.

They passed a being, humanoid but some species Kylo had never seen. Its skin rippled and shifted under roughspun robes and it tilted its head toward them, turning an eyeless face in their direction. They continued down the hall, observed but not obstructed.

“You have questions.” The Doctor looked over at him as they walked in near silence, the only sounds the soft sweep of her skirts on the stone and his own footfalls. “Now is the time to ask. Snoke likely will not allow you time.”

“Who is that?”

“The Watcher.” Her words were simple and straightforward, as though there could be no other explanation. She continued on in silence.

“Why did he leave me to…?” Kylo trailed off, unsure how to ask.

She laughed, a wry sound. “You want to know why you were left to wallow alone in your failure?”

“Yes.”

“Because you were weak. You lacked control.”

“Why didn’t he help me?”

“Snoke? Why should she?” The Doctor’s eyes glimmered with humor as she noted his surprise. “Yes, she. And to tell the truth, she could not. Not in the way you needed. You were incapable of hearing her. She is…not what you expect her to be. There is no such thing as unlimited power, although in her wisdom she is strong.”

“Then what…?”

“You are hardly more than a child, I don’t expect she will explain her motives to you. She doesn’t explain her motives to anyone.” The woman pursed her lips in irritation and continued to lead the way, winding through the narrow stone corridors.

They continued to walk in silence for a time before he spoke again, feeling like a chastised padawan. “You said there is no such thing as unlimited power…”

“I would think even one as young as yourself would know that.” There was an edge of humor in her words. “Snoke is brilliant and stronger than the rest of us, but someday she might be overthrown. The path of the Sith encourages the apprentice to attempt an overthrow of a master. In fact, in my day it was a disappointing apprentice that didn’t try.”

The silence stretched until they finally came to a stop in front of a set of doors, much like many of the sets of doors they had passed. “Have you ever experienced true darkness?”

Kylo turned to her, watching carefully as she slid the bar. “No.”

“You will. Brace yourself, but do not resist it.” The Doctor pushed the heavy door open a crack, just wide enough for him to slip through. “From here I cannot help you. But I have a piece of advice for you, child.” She fixed him with a stare he couldn’t quite break. “Respect and restraint are your allies.”

The dread that gripped him as she turned back down the maze of tunnels flared his nerves with adrenaline.

Kylo Ren turned to face the darkness.

* * *

Inside, there was a void.

Perhaps not quite a void, but an emptiness. Several steps inside, the door closed on its own behind him, leaving him in pitch darkness like he’d never known.

He stood stock-still waiting for his eyes to adjust, breathing the stagnant air slowly, steadily. When it became clear that there was no illumination to be found, he regretted losing his saber in the aftermath of Starkiller more than ever. After what felt like hours, his eyes still hadn’t adjusted and he found he was blind. It occurred to him that this was what the Doctor meant by ‘true darkness’.

A sound, a wave, a chilling sensation rolled up his spine like a laugh. _No._

Unable to tell if the voice was in his head or real, he spun, trying to hear something, anything. There was nothing but a sound, distant, that might have been water. He was beginning to think his mind had played tricks on him when he heard it again.

_This is merely cave darkness. True darkness is something…different._

“Supreme Leader?”

 _We meet at last, Kylo Ren._ As he listened, he found the familiar voice neutral, although the inflection could have hinted at a female source. Perhaps he’d judged it incorrectly all those years.

“My Lord?” He hesitated. “…My Lady?”

A flare of annoyance in the air, then a long, slow sigh. It was almost like wind, whistling through the chamber. _The Doctor told you._

“Yes.”

 _Fine._ There was a long pause, then _She’s patched you up sufficiently, I take it?_

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

 _Supreme Leader is a bit of a mouthful. You may simply call me Master._ A pause. _I suppose there is no need for reprimand. Your failure is your own, and in it, you have failed the Order. Your own shame is a greater punishment than anything I could concoct._

“Master, I...”

_Your thoughts reek of shame, I can sense it. So. Onward to the next point of business, in that there is further training to consider. What do you know of this place?_

He hesitated, still reeling from the whiplash of the conversation. “It is a place of power, where the Sith of old began.”

 _And ended._ The voice paused. _Reach out. Can you feel it?_

There was a sensation, a powerful darkness. Something he could feel, but not identify. Instead, he reached out to the voice for an answer. “What is it?

 _Those that came before._ The voice rang in his ears. The feeling, the awful pressing darkness. He’d done plenty of research when he was young, fresh to the First Order. Moraband was and still is a place of power and of strength, the sort of place the Sith Lords relished and revered. For countless numbers of them, this was their final resting place.

“Here?”

_Below your feet, child._

His skin crawled and the air seemed to press in on him. This was their resting place? An eternally darkened chamber in the heart of Moraband?

_You question it. Why?_

He forced himself to breathe. “Because,” he nearly faltered, “despite their power…they’re still…dead.”

_At least you understand that much. In spite of your failures, you remain…perceptive, to a degree._

“There is no power that can cheat death.”

_There is power that can sustain life. For a time. You haven’t heard the stories. There were old stories…_

There was a long silence, one that Kylo dare not break. Finally, after a moment that seemed to last far too long, Snoke sighed. _Darth Plagueis was a Force user powerful enough to influence midichlorians and create life, or even preserve it. An old story, and only partially true. Those of us that study the past sometimes find that the truth is not as the stories say._

He startled at the implications, his first thought skidding towards his father, then to the billions of lives snuffed out in the Hosnian system.

 _That is the sort of power you can only dream of, child, the sort that only exists in stories. The truth is that power, particularly power obtained through the Force, is what you make of it. Speaking of which…_ He could hear the the malice in the voice. _...you are not near as powerful as you believed._

Shame burned through him, derailing his thoughts. “I’m sorry Master.”

_Your blood is strong but you yourself are weak. Your father was not a Force user, although the thought of him pulled you toward the light. Your mother though…she is. And you will forever be pulled toward the light while she lives._

“You…expect me to kill my mother?” Anticipation or fear, he couldn’t tell which, turned his senses cold and numb.

 _You cannot come into your proper birthright while another Skywalker lives, child. Your uncle as well._ The silence stretched, dark and heavy as the implications sank in. _I would have you as my right hand, my dark Knight. The same position as your grandfather held._

Her purpose slowly began to dawn on him. “He stood at the Emperor’s side. Do you…?”

_I do not wish to be Emperor. I wish to control one. I’ve been eyeing a member of the Order’s command to elevate. As a...figurehead, of sorts. Someone people want to rally around._ There was a moment of silence, then a sigh, fleeting like a gust of wind. _He is ideal. Ambitious, intelligent, with a command of skilled soldiers, highly loyal to him. The galaxy would bend to him. And you, my Knight, at his side. Bending him to my will and keeping him blind to the truth. Much like your grandfather did to members of the Imperial Navy when they…disagreed with Darth Sidious._ He could almost hear the inflection in the voice, as though the comment was humorous.

“My grandfather…”

_Stood at the Emperor’s right hand...and ultimately betrayed him. A failure to the last, and a disgrace._

“I will not fail you.”

 _You say that, but it remains to be seen. His downfall was your grandmother’s influence, child._ The voice made a disappointed sound, almost a sigh. _Padmé Naberrie…you might know her as Queen Amidala…pulled him toward the light. He loved her too much._

“I lack his weaknesses.”

_Not entirely. That is, of course, the blessing and the curse of the Skywalkers. Your passion runs deep._

“Supreme Leader…?”

_Hm. No. I’ve had enough of this. Attend me tomorrow. We will discuss your training then._

The door opened and he walked back into the light, blinking and near-blind.

* * *

After a meal and a full night’s sleep in a semi-comfortable bed that seemed to be part of a disused barracks, Kylo found himself yet again escorted down the stone passageways to the heavy doors. Instead of the Doctor, though, he was led by a tall, dark man with hundreds of tiny black circles tattooed across his skin. He called himself Wires and was silent after announcing that he would be Kylo’s guide to the visitation chamber.

When he yet again found himself in darkness, the door closing behind him with a heavy grind, he reached out with the Force, finding nothing.

“Master?”

_Your training begins now._

He waited for instruction in silence for a time, his eyes still attempting to adjust.

When no further instruction followed, he hesitantly spoke again. “Master?”

Silence, but for the distant sound of water slowly dripping.

He waited.

The darkness was all-encompassing. He could see nothing, not even a hand in front of his face. He shuddered, feeling a spark of real fear flare in his chest.

He reached out, feeling about himself tentatively with the Force. He found nothing living but patches of bacteria near what he could only assume were cracks in the ceiling where water dripped eternally down into the cavern.

The blank stone was resistant to his Force abilities, deader than anything he’d ever felt. Whatever they were made of, it wasn’t limestone or calcite as he’d first thought.

Ideas flickered through his head and he tried them one by one. Returning the direction he thought he’d come from resulted in nothing, only a long stumble and no door. It quickly became apparent that he was blind. Not only visually, but the flowing feeling that accompanied the Force, the midichlorians that might guide a force-user, were painfully absent.

The dark crept into his mind.

He was abandoned, blind, cold, and blocked off from whatever else might be out there. Each direction he turned lead into nothingness, and he quickly became lost in the near-emptiness of the place. Once he stumbled on a rock and fell, quickly losing his bearings entirely. From there on out, instead of walking, he crawled.

When it became clear there was no escape, Kylo stilled. If this was a part of his training, it was a test of some sort. The only logical way out of a test was to pass it. He sat down on the cold rock beneath his knees, curling in and huddling to conserve body heat. The air was cold, damp, and stagnant. Meditation came slowly and stayed for an indeterminate amount of time. Hunger and the slow, creeping need for sleep were the only indications that nightfall approached outside the chamber, the end of another cycle.

Time passed strangely, seeming to speed and then slow to a near stop. Even with the damp air, his mouth quickly became dry, as though it had been swabbed with cotton. Hunger started to curl in the pit if his stomach like a claw raking through his gut.

There was a lesson here Snoke wanted him to learn. Perhaps once he’d learned it, he would be freed.

He closed his eyes, noting that there was no difference between his eyes being open or closed, and tried to relax into the Force.

* * *

After an amount of time that felt like at least half a day, Kylo started seeing things. Lights glowed at the edge of his vision, spots bright in his eyes, colors that simply weren’t there.

There was nothing but the sound of dripping water, nothing he was certain of. Whispers. Half-words he couldn't quite hear, or be certain of. Footsteps on the bare rock that couldn't possibly be footsteps. No matter how often he cried out to Snoke, there was no reply.

More than ever before, he felt incredibly alone. All his life he’d been surrounded by things he could feel through the Force. This was near unbearable.

He had no real reference of time. Three days passed without his knowledge. By the third day, the hunger was nearly as overwhelming as the suffocating dark.

Before long he started to wonder if it was all a dream, if the things he remembered had been real at all. He wasn’t sure what was wakefulness and what was sleep, although the hunger seemed sharper during what he thought of as wakefulness. His muscles cramped and fatigue set in. Dust from the chamber slowly seemed to fill his lungs, creeping upward to clog his throat. Without a hint of water, he coughed near constantly, feeling the ache in his chest grow slowly into a constant pain that wavered between blinding and a bone-deep ache.

The visions started. If he’d had the luxury of a reference, he would’ve said it was on the fourth day that they truly set in. The lack of presence in the cave stripped him down to his barest thoughts and feelings, slowly rebuilding him and birthing him into a new mentality

Slowly, very slowly, he began to understand he was dying. His chest splintered, spreading pain and tightness to his shoulders. His breathing turned irregular, shaky and uneven. Through the haze, he catalogued what it would be like to die. Hypothermia ought to put him to sleep first, but dehydration might simply make him lose consciousness. He wondered if it would be possible to end his own life, before dehydration made him too weak to do so.

He wondered what Snoke’s purpose was in all of this.

In the end, that was what spurred the realization. That his isolation had no purpose, that it couldn’t possibly be training.

It was punishment and he’d walked in like a lamb to the slaughter, fooled by her lack of an immediate reprimand.

With what little strength he had left, he screamed his into the empty darkness until his voice died.

* * *

He clung to life as the hallucinations came and went like tides might, on a planet with moons and a sky and life, all the things missing from the hellhole he occupied.

There were visions of his family, of the innumerable lives snuffed out at Snoke’s command, of Hux, who would never understand the true weight of what he’d done. They continued, shifting to the few he might call friends. Phasma, brilliant and shining in the old Emperor’s chrome. The Knights, motley crew of oddly loyal mercenaries that they were. 

The world dissolved into little more than imagined shapes and shadows.

* * *

He had no idea how much time passed in that place.

_Kylo Ren._

The voice seemed unreal, nothing but another hallucination.

_You are still alive, it seems. Perhaps not as weak as I thought._

That got his attention. He unfolded from where he’d curled in his robes, trying to keep what little body heat he had.

_I see you have a burning desire to live. Do you feel it?_

“Master?” His voice cracked, his throat dry and creaking as he begged, barely audible. “Master, please. End this.”

_Hush. The crackle of the Force under your skin? The fire, boy. Do you feel the fire?_

He stopped, trying to understand what the voice meant. After a minute of trying to sort through jumbled thoughts, he found what Snoke spoke of. A burning sensation, resting just below his skin. “Is it…real?”

_Absolutely. Reach for it. Gather it in your hands._

Fingers shaking, he reached out. It couldn’t possibly be real, the flickering blue fire he felt dancing under his skin.

_Good. That power is a burning desire for survival, and is where much of your strength comes from. Gather some of it and release it._

The voice was so smooth, so soothing, there was little he could have done to refuse. He reached, finding the flares slipping through numb fingers and wriggling away like living things until they finally blazed to life in a burst of green and blue electricity. The bright light seemed to burn itself into his eyes, a red burst in the darkness even after the sparks were gone.

The voice in the back of his head seemed pleased. _That fire will never go out, not so long as you desire to live. A selfish passion, perhaps, but one that will serve you well. To find it again, you must simply reach for it._

Kylo stared at his hands disbelieving, finally seeing them in the darkness, lit with a mottled blue-green glow that seemed to fade beneath his skin.

It had to be impossible. He was hallucinating, he had to be. Force lightning. He could summon Force lightning.

The darkness took over again and he fell.

* * *

He came around again in the infirmary.

When the heart rate monitor at his side started beeping appropriately, a small medical droid appeared, chirping gently as it checked his vitals and then rolled away.

Kylo fell into something that was more trance than sleep, and woke to a clipped voice. “You made her angry, didn’t you?”

“What?” He looked up to find Wires speaking to him.

“You heard me.”

He looked down at his hands. In the fluorescent light, they were plain and opaque, no different than usual. Still, when he turned one over and held it out, he could feel the same faint thrum under his skin.

He turned back to Wires. “I’m not sure.”

* * *

Another day and another session with Snoke dragged up memories he would rather have forgotten. He’d been lead to the door by a bulky man who appeared to be part Chiss and had identified himself as Tactic, then been left to the darkness again.

_You have buried not only your pain, but the pain of others._

“I don’t understand.”

 _The Hosnian System._ The words were said with a sickening sense of satisfaction. _You felt it._

“Yes.” He shivered.

_You must know pain to know power. And control. You will learn. Open yourself up to the memories._

Kylo Ren reluctantly did as he was told.

* * *

It took days to pull himself back together after letting the Hosnian memories back into the forefront of his mind. Snoke said a number of the meditation techniques she would teach him required a full lowering of the mental walls he’d used to protect himself from the memories, but they shook him to the core and left him distracted.

Sickness set in, in part from the cool dampness in the cave but otherwise from guilt. Nightmares woke him, slowly breaking him through lack of sleep.

Snoke didn’t seem particularly concerned as his body began to fail again.

* * *

_I have another small task for you. A challenge, perhaps. To see if you can apply what you’ve learned._

The sound of metal, scraping along the stone floor.

_This is Sticks. It lives here in the citadel with the Others._

Kylo turned, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. It did little as the metal echoed off the walls.

_Kill him._

“With what?”

Silence.

The sound of scraping metal came to stop behind him. A pit of dread opened in his stomach.

The thing in the dark, whatever it was, was fast. It took time for him to get a lock on it with the Force. When he finally did, he caught it and held it still, trying to ascertain Snoke’s purpose. The hunt was training. Training. What had Snoke emphasized?

At least that much was clear. Kylo reached for the sparks that seemed to shudder beneath his skin, stoking them and reaching out for the thing called Sticks. The scream that followed was horrifying, as was the stench of burning flesh and the acrid tang of singed hair. Kylo let it go, hearing the body hit the ground with no sense of satisfaction.

_Good. Very good._

* * *

The days began to blur and Kylo was no longer sure how long he’d been there.

After yet another session with Snoke, this time focused on one of many meditation techniques, Kylo curled up in the cot he’d been given in the abandoned barracks.

The light was faint and gray, spilling into the room from windows high above. Dust danced in the air and he found yet again that smells and lights were vivid and overwhelming after spending what might have been days in the stone chamber.

It was dark in that place, despite the faint daylight above. Not the darkness Kylo was used to, the darkness he wrapped about himself like a cloak. No. It was dark like the inside of a skull, the kind that would never see the light of day, and if it did, hell would spill forth. It was like the darkness of the visitation chamber had followed him.

It was a place beyond places, a thing that was completely and utterly wrong.

Still, she couldn’t reach him there. Snoke, for all her power, seemed incapable of reaching into his head and ripping at the more fragile bits outside of the visitation chamber. So it was a safe place, a place he could huddle and plead with whoever might be listening, begging for a reprieve.

* * *

That reprieve eventually came in the form of the Finalizer. The Doctor came to him after a particularly brutal session with Snoke, as he sat in the infirmary and let the medical droid patch him up for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Supreme Leader Snoke has sent for the Finalizer. You will be leaving as soon as a shuttle arrives for you,” the Doctor said, as though detached.

Kylo looked at her uncertainly. “Do I have a mission?”

“No. You will be contacted.”

“Wait…” Kylo stared openly. “What should I do in the meantime?”

She shrugged. “I would say you ought to continue your training and practice what you have learned. Simple enough. Wires might have a better idea, if you see him.”

He took a deep breath. “Right. Thank you.”

The older woman looked at him as though searching for something. When she failed to find it, she shrugged and averted her gaze. “Farewell, Skywalker-child. Be careful. The Supreme Leader can be...dangerous.”

With that odd statement, she was gone.

* * *

The feelings Kylo had toward Hux and his crew were almost warm in comparison to the hell he’d been through at Snoke’s hand.

Maybe it was the fact that Hux came to save him after his failure on Starkiller. Maybe it was the way Hux had stuck around in space while he trained.

He wouldn’t have called their relationship a friendship, but maybe the next best thing.

* * *

It wasn’t entirely disconcerting that the General failed to greet him on his arrival. In all reality, Kylo wasn’t prepared to deal with officers, and wanted little more than a shower and a hot meal.

After cleaning himself and sleeping for nearly a full cycle, Kylo suited up, relishing the hiss of his helmet clicking into place, despite its anonymity. Part of him missed the familiarity of his old helmet. The other part had hated it, and thought little of its loss.

The bridge went silent on his arrival.

“Where is the General?” he asked.

Mitaka looked at him squarely, seemingly having grown a spine sometime in the weeks following Starkiller’s demise. “He’s been spending his off-hours in his quarters, sir.”

“What could he possibly…”

“Sir, if I may?” Mitaka looked uncomfortable. “He’s been drafting.”

The new vocoder wasn’t generous to his voice. “Drafting what?”

“A new Starkiller, sir.”

Kylo fought to keep his voice level as memories of the Hosnian system surfaced, the fear he’d experienced over and over in the course of Snoke’s training. The number of deaths. The sheer horror of such a thing was gut-wrenching and he carefully quelled the urge to be sick. “A _new_ Starkiller?”

Mitaka nodded as Kylo skimmed his mind. Thoughts and emotions pooled at the forefront, pride, loyalty, dedication, all positive traits. Kylo delved a bit deeper, feeling something more sinister hidden in the depths. He followed through Mitaka’s thoughts, like trailing an oil slick, and finally found it: fear. Whatever it was Hux was doing, it terrified a man that had played an integral part to the creation of the original Starkiller base.

“I’ll speak to him.”

“Yes, sir.” Mitaka was loyal, certainly, but the fear was an insidious, gut-wrenching feeling he just couldn’t shake.

* * *

Standing outside of Hux’s room, he could feel the change that had taken place. Hux, usually precise and controlled, was surrounded by feelings of anxiety and anger so strong Kylo could feel them through the door. Still, Kylo didn’t bother knocking.

Hux’s face snapped up from where he stood hunched over his desk, surprise fading to look of utter disdain, the sort of expression that might have lead to the end of planets if Starkiller base had still been up and running, or perhaps if Snoke got her way and raised him to Emperor.

“General.”

It must have been something in his tone of voice, or in his expression. Hux had always been uncannily good at reading him. “Come in and shut the damn door,” he said.

It was as good as an invitation from Hux. Three long strides into the room and Hux met him in the middle, an insult on the edge of his lips. Kylo could feel the aggravation that rolled off of him, the frustration, the madness that was pent up behind a carefully constructed floodwall.

Kylo lifted the new, anonymous helmet from his head and Hux sneered. “I liked your other helmet better.”

“Me too. Too bad I lost it when Starkiller blew.”

Hux’s rage flared to life and he shoved Kylo back into the wall with a snarl, stronger than his size might suggest. “Watch yourself, Ren.”

“I’ve never been one to tread lightly.”

Hux grabbed him by the front of his tunic, shoving his forearm into Kylo’s windpipe with enough force to bruise. “Even I can tell what you’re here for. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up.”

“Make me.”

* * *

Clothes were scattered across the room, the bedding rumpled. It hadn’t been their worst encounter, although it had been no more than base desires and getting each other off.

It seemed to have done little to dispel the tension that sat between Hux’s shoulders, and Kylo hardly needed the Force to feel the frustration that poured out of him.

Hux returned from the ‘fresher as irritable as before, the afterglow doing little to improve his mood. He dressed quickly, ignoring the way Kylo sprawled in his bed, assessing him for several long minutes before finally saying, “What’s wrong?”

Hux blinked as he pulled his second boot on, genuinely surprised for a moment before he frowned and snapped, “What, don’t you read minds?”

“You know I try to stay out of yours.”

Hux shook his head and ran his hand back through damp hair to fix it. “Let me break it down for you then. I’m trying to get the Order back on track, nearly a quarter of the troopers under my command were killed on Starkiller, we’re low on funds, and you’ve just come back from several weeks of vacation. That’s what’s wrong.”

His tone set Kylo’s mood sour. He rose from the bed, ready for a fight. “You think it was a vacation?”

“You can’t honestly tell me you were working. On that hunk of rock, where there’s hardly ten dozen lifeforms planet-wide, you mean to tell me you were actually accomplishing something useful to the Order?”

Kylo tried to get a word in edgewise. “The Supreme Leader instructed me to…”

“The Supreme Leader left you for dead.” Hux snapped. “He ordered me to pick up the pieces and patch you up before dropping you off. Meanwhile, my command hung idle. Yet again because of you.” They’d fought any number of times, but this was something more, a fight that had been festering for weeks, resentment and rage, bitterness and envy, all amassed into one final match.

Hux continued, salting the wound. “The Supreme Leader is playing you, you pathetic idiot. And you’re just too blind to see it.”

It took all of Kylo’s control not to throw him into the wall. Instead, his words came through gritted teeth. “I'm not the one being played. Moraband is a source of power, the kind someone like you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Well.” Hux took a breath, trying to pull himself back together. “You were nearly killed by an untrained girl, so I can’t imagine your so-called power is something the galaxy should be worried about.”

“You have no idea what I can do.”

“You can’t intimidate the New Republic, that’s for sure.” Hux found himself lifted with the Force and shoved into the wall. “Put me down you useless…!”

Kylo glared up at him, barely maintaining control. “You need the skills I have to offer in order to end the jedi. I’m far from useless.”

“There’s one of them and if you honestly think the scavenger girl has gone to him for training, perhaps two. They can’t save the galaxy on their own, just as you can’t beat it into submission on your own.” Hux’s voice rose to a dangerous pitch. “I don’t need you. I never needed you and I never asked to be saddled with you! I needed Starkiller, and it’s gone thanks to your idiocy!”

Kylo suppressed a shudder at the thought of the base and what it had wrought. “Starkiller never should have existed.”

Hux’s face twitched with rage. “Starkiller was our only real chance to subdue the New Republic.”

“Starkiller was a mistake.”

“Get out.” Whatever it was that Hux had been trying to suppress finally snapped. “Get out of my quarters.”

The sick feeling in Kylo’s gut at the thought of Starkiller grew, the sounds of the dead echoing about in his skull. “Hux…”

“Get out!”

“No,” Kylo said releasing Hux from the Force-hold and glaring as he pulled on his pants. “Starkiller was a mistake.”

“The Order needs a weapon of mass destruction. We cannot hold our own without one.”

“Then we don't conquer systems through intimidation, or through bloodshed to that degree.” Kylo stared him down. “An entire system, Hux. We both have blood on our hands, but where do we draw the line?”

“There is no line, not in this.”

Kylo hesitated, then tried a different angle. “The Order can’t afford another base of such a size. We can’t bear the costs.”

“I’ll conquer as many systems as it takes to cover the cost _myself,_ ” he spat. “Without a superweapon, the Order has no grounds for negotiation without bloodshed. We send our troopers to die the moment we refuse to take the upper hand. The New Republic can raise armies, can fight back against men and ships, but it cannot and will not build its own superweapon. And the war isn’t going anywhere, negotiations have failed time and time again.” Hux rattled off the explanation like a speech to a war-council. “Traditional methods of war are useless if there isn’t someone willing to do what must be done to create a lasting peace.”

“You would accept the blood of billions to ensure peace?”

For a moment, Hux looked abashed. “Snoke gave that order.”

“You and I are the only ones that know that, you can’t shift that blame.”

“Then it sounds like we’re both going to hell.” Hux’s voice had dropped low, eerie. “The number of lives lost to a single blow from Starkiller is still smaller than the number of casualties from the war.”

“They weren’t soldiers, they were citizens.”

“Ren, I will do whatever I have to in order to end this. I’d do it again if I have to. I’d have the blood of billions on my hands, but if it would bring a faster end to the war, I’d do it.” Hux’s conviction was terrifying. “Starkiller was our only chance at peace. At order. That's the entire philosophy the Order was built on.”

“How can you believe that?”

“Because I’ve seen the proof of it with my own eyes.”

“You've only seen what the Supreme Leader wants you to see, what you were taught to believe." He followed it up with a halfhearted, "And there won't be orders another one.” but the excuse sounded weak, even to him.

“The Supreme Leader isn’t politically inclined, and I’ll give the orders myself. I _will not stop_ until I’ve built that base!”

A sense of purpose descended on Kylo. Never before had he felt that sort of drive, like an unheard voice calling to him through the Force that this was what he was destined to do. Hux _couldn’t_ rebuild Starkiller. The galaxy couldn’t afford another loss like that. The balance would be offset. 

The only person that could stop him was Kylo, who came back with, “You can’t.”

“Watch me,” Hux snarled, looking completely out of control. His hair and collar were askance, his uniform out of its usual pristine form.

“I’ll destroy the blueprints.”

Hux snapped. “You think that would stop it? Don’t you think I’d back something like that up? And I could make it from scratch again within days, you’d have to kill me to stop me.”

In an action Kylo was almost surprised by, he threw a hand up, drawing on the Force and clawing his way into Hux’s mind.

Hux, for his part, fought as long as he could, despite the fact that he had no real defenses against such an intrusion. He found himself frozen in place, his expression etched with sheer hatred for the Knight.

Though there were any number of things Kylo could have picked out of Hux’s head, there were two pieces of information he found pertaining to Starkiller that stood out.

The first, that Hux hadn’t backed up the plans for the revised Starkiller to the net, that it had been a bluff. The emotion surrounding the plans was a bit more difficult to decipher, but Kylo quickly found that it was a mixture of pride and paranoia, founded in his days at the Academy. No, it was preserved in three places, a small drive in the right-hand drawer of Hux’s desk, the original drive that Hux used as he worked, and his head.

Hand still held out to hold the man still with the Force, Kylo retrieved the first drive and crushed it under his heel. Hux’s expression twitched with rage, but otherwise he remained still and silent. He removed Hux's datapad from the port on the drafting table and opened up the casement, letting the holoprojectors flicker and die. He removed the second drive and, again, crushed it under his heel before turning back to Hux and continuing to examine the General’s thoughts.

The next piece of information he found with his continued examination: Hux didn’t understand the sheer weight of the Hosnian system’s loss. He hadn’t felt it, couldn’t sympathize with the billions of lives snuffed out. Certainly he hadn’t given the original order, but in completing Snoke’s command he had damned entire worlds to oblivion. He truly believed that he had done what needed to be done to end the war faster, to save lives in the long term. He'd believed that a single decisive action would end the war, and when Snoke had sent the order, he'd hardly hesitated.

So Kylo made a decision and summoned his strength.

He caught Hux by the chest and head, shoving him back into the wall again. His head snapped back as Kylo pressed a bare hand to his forehead, prying his mind open and focusing. Kylo could feel it all again, the suffering and sheer loss, the massive gaping emptiness where there had once been planets, the empty hole where Hosnian Prime had been, the lights of life suddenly extinguished, all felt through the Force. He gathered up his own memories of Starkiller’s destruction, every last one of them, and shoved them into Hux’s mind.

For a moment, it seemed that nothing had happened, that even the memories of something so horrifying wouldn’t be enough to bend the General’s conviction.

Then the blood drained from his face and his eyes took on a glassy look as he was forced to feel it all, the death, the pain, the absolute hell of it.

Kylo didn’t shy away. He held still, staring the General down as he faced hell and felt the full impact of his actions for the first time. Eventually, he let Hux go as his eyes rolled back into his head and he gasped as though drowning. Once released from the Force-hold, Hux slumped forward into him. The General had gone stark white, the color of marble, and trembled violently. Otherwise, he was unresponsive.

Horror slowly dawned on Kylo as he realized the amount of damage he might have caused to an organized mind. He set about reading Hux’s surface thoughts again and found them fragmented, shattered into thousands of disconnected pieces.

* * *

It was a cold realization that there was little he could do, for the time being. He hadn't thought it through, and Hux's mind hadn't been prepared for the impact of such thoughts. He laid Hux out on the bed and set about trying to put his own mind back together.

At first, it seemed that Hux might be able to process it all, that the overall organization of his mind would sort out the foreign images and influences of the Hosnian memories, but after about an hour there seemed to be little progress. Occasionally Hux spasmed and shook like a droid with broken servos, sweating through his uniform and occasionally making choked noises as he breathed.

Kylo went for ice, for warm towels, for anything that might help ground Hux, leaving him under the supervision of a reprogrammed service droid for short periods of time. Nothing seemed to work.

It dawned on him that maybe he’d finally made a mistake he couldn’t rectify.

* * *

After a worried night spent awake at Hux’s side with no visible progress, Kylo truly began to worry. He’d broken minds before, but only through the removal of information. Interrogation was one of his many abilities, and it had never been particularly difficult.

It seemed the addition of information could break a man even more efficiently than the removal.

After a full cycle, Kylo realized that suspicion would soon arise. The General’s failure to answer his comm, the frequent buzz of his datapad, it would all add up and someone from the bridge would show up searching for him.

And what would they find? A general, bodily in one piece but broken in mind. Not only that, but this was Hux. His crew was disgustingly loyal, and actual damage done to him by Kylo might be enough to turn them against the Knight.

As the beginning of a third cycle approached, it occurred to Kylo that Hux wasn’t an easy person to break, but that this had completely wrecked him.

* * *

When Hux finally emerged into consciousness, tears ran unchecked from glassy eyes and his mouth moved, as though he were trying to speak. Kylo stooped low and listened, eventually able to catch the words, “Make it stop.”

It was practically impossible to take the memories back, not through the same pathways. The multitude of memories from the last moments of Hosnian Prime were too varied, too spread out in Hux’s mind to be removed the same way they’d been shoved in. Kylo shook his head slowly. “I can’t.”

Hux’s eyes were open but unseeing. Kylo reached out, probing the surface of his mind. Exposed to the full impact of his actions, the careful compartmentalization of Hux’s mind had broken down. His mind had shored the memories up enough for him to resurface into consciousness, but the walls were weak, and wouldn't last long. Hux’s voice cracked. “Please…”

“I can’t, there’s no way to…”

“Then kill me.”

Kylo was taken aback. “What?”

When he managed to shape words again, Hux’s voice was little more than a whisper. “You don’t...I will. I won't live like this.”

* * *

Faced with the likelihood of Hux committing suicide to escape the memories, Kylo reluctantly delved in.

Hux’s mind had scattered, nothing left of the careful organization Kylo had skimmed hundreds of times. Instead, it was as though someone had dumped all the precisely ordered files and scattered them across the space of his mind. Hux’s memories were interspersed among the memories of the Hosnian system, which had strangled every other thought, encompassed his entire being, and overflowed all the careful compartmentalization. Kylo began the slow work of straining them apart.

He could hear the screams, something that would continue to follow him.

_A small Twi’lek girl, eyes bright and cheerful._

_Two suns flung apart in the sky, purple clouds burning off in the heat._

_Small red fruit cupped in a dark, narrow pair of feminine hands._

_The sound of screaming and the shiver that vibrates along bones in the wake of the sound._ Kylo wrapped his mind about the memory and pulled, slowly prying it from Hux’s mind.

_Another day at the Academy, a handshake from a man with a strict expression and red hair. Pride…irreversibly linked to a small boy screaming, burning until the viewer was also lost in the annihilating red glow._

Kylo hesitated, then dragged the memories out.

For a time, he continued like that, removing memories that were clearly not Hux’s, doing his best to leave those that were. Kylo picked through them, trying to tell the old from the new, guessing which memories were Hux’s and which were projected in the last moments of a dying system, the fleeting thoughts of ordinary denizens and the more specific thoughts of unknowing force-sensitives. Some of the them were impossible to tell apart, and after some hesitation, he considered erring on the side of leaving the better memories that might not be Hux's.

There was a memory, he’d seen it twice already. _Hands, wrapping around a neck, pale, bruised hands with split knuckles and fine bones, choking the life out of the man below. His eyes, dark, sad as they look up at the strangler, betrayed beyond belief._ Kylo pried that one free, but it didn’t feel right.

He told himself that there was a method, that it was strategic, that he’d done it to prevent the destruction of another system and to keep Hux alive, even though everything about it made him sick. He removed what he could, eventually realizing that the only way to remove some of the irreversibly bound memories would be to simply remove memories en masse. It was impossible to keep going through everything, it would take years. The weight of his mistake pressed down on him and he faced a choice: retreat and leave Hux to be crushed under the weight of his actions, or remove everything pertaining to Starkiller and give him a chance to recover?

So Kylo made a decision.

In the real world, he could feel Hux shaking under his hand as Kylo removed much more than he’d originally planned. Hux’s thoughts were thrown together and jostled and jumbled with the memories of the Hosnian system, and Kylo couldn’t remove one without removing large chunks of the other. So he took both, pulling the scrambled mess out of his head entirely. As delicate as the human mind was, it was plastic, and he hoped Hux’s would be able to repair itself.

To his shock, something gave way. A wall he hadn't been able to feel before crumbled, the fragile infrastructure melting away under his touch, and he was left with no other option but to back out before being swept away by the flood. Kylo swept up the bits and pieces that were left and locked them away. It was sloppy, little more than a hack job, but it might be enough to get Hux back on his feet.

* * *

He surfaced from Hux’s mind to find his body limp on the bed, tension and spasms finally gone. Kylo slumped forward, resting his head in his hands and hoping for the best as he fearfully catalogued scenarios.

Best case scenario: Hux was fine and his mind would simply patch over any bits that had gone missing, leaving him no worse for wear.

Worst case scenario: Hux’s mind would fall apart, leaving him alive but only just.

Most likely scenario: Hux would wake, missing bits and pieces of his memory but ultimately functional.

Kylo sat down and waited, anxiety gnawing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll tell you guys this: Snoke's identity is actually important, and you're all going to hate me for it.
> 
> Mad props to my beta betweenheroesandvillains, who keeps hauling my butt through this.
> 
> Comments, corrections, concerns, and questions always welcome!


	3. Double Replacement

_Consciousness._

The realization came through a haze, as though acknowledged from a distance. He felt as though his brain had been put through a blender, and the blinding headache he had from the first moment of wakefulness slowly eased.

_I’m alive_

Whatever it was that made him think it, it was true, as evidenced by the heavy aches and pains that seemed to run through his entire body. Despite the pain, he felt...light. Empty? The right word refused to come to him. It felt like a weight was gone for the first time in a long time.

Through the blur, he dimly registered that the concept of time seemed to...bend and twist as he tried to wrap his mind around it. What was ‘a long time’? There ought to have been something there, but the only things he remembered were faded smears of color.

_Eyes open._

He looked around the room. It wasn’t much, stark and cold, with little furniture. He lay on the bed, and there appeared to be a desk on the far side of the room. There was a man next to him. Unmoving. Not a threat. He ignored him for the time being, continuing to parse his surroundings.

Somehow he knew without counting that there were 118 square ceiling tiles. Useless information, but he was sure of it. He knew that the room had no other furniture but the bed and the desk and the chair, and that it was six paces from the side of the bed to the pressurized door across the room. He knew those things, he knew he knew those things, but the room was entirely unfamiliar. He took it in, feeling detached as he noted how military it felt, starchy and cold.

Another quick scan of his memories produced nothing but more whirls of color and sound. Most notable was the empty space where there should have been a name.

He turned his gaze to the man at his side. He looked him up and down, trying to observe what he could from such a strange angle. Outwardly, he assessed the man bluntly. Male, in his late twenties perhaps, tall, broad shouldered, carrying a fair amount of muscle. The dark tunic he wore did little to hide his frame.

On a less analytical level, the man looked nervous, with intense eyes, heavy brows that pinched in with worry, and a scar that cut across his face. He was large, not delicate at all, although something about him looked half-starved and the wave of dark hair falling toward his face softened his features a bit.

_Possibly a threat? Impossible to tell._

There was an itching feeling in the back of his mind, something that didn’t feel quite right. He tried to speak, but found that his voice refused to work and all that came out was a cracked sound.

The man looked at him for another moment and then said, “Oh.” and stood. He returned a minute later with a glass of water and held it out carefully, letting him sip it slowly and taking the glass away when he choked. Then the man sat down in the chair and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Where am I?” He beat the man to the punch, asking a question before he could speak.

“A First Order star destroyer called the Finalizer.” The man watched him carefully, as if expecting a reaction of some sort. “What do you remember?”

He shook his head. “Who are you?”

The man appeared to fight with himself. “You don’t…you don’t remember?”

“No.” A sick feeling welled in his stomach. He should remember this, he ought to. The man wore an expression of suppressed pain, and his dark eyes were…sad, perhaps? “What should I remember? Who are you?”

“I’m…Ben.”

He eyed ‘Ben’ angrily, cataloguing him from head to toe. Tall, broad, muscled. Some sort of…outdated tabard, gear best suited to the days of old on a battlefield. “You hesitated. Don’t lie to me.”

“I was born Ben. I wasn’t Ben for a long time, but…I think I need to go back to being him.” Deep baritone, reassuring in a way that he wasn’t sure of. It might have been the depth. It might have been a memory. He had a gut feeling that this man was trustworthy.

“What’s your last name?”

“Walker. I’m Ben Walker.” This time, the man didn’t hesitate as he spoke. Then he took a deep breath. “And if you want to survive, we’re going to have to make a run for it.”

* * *

“You want to explain why we need to run?” he asked as Ben rummaged about in a closet, pulling out unmarked clothing and various shades of black. Boots, gloves, simple black slacks, dark underclothes. They were all tossed on the bed without ceremony.

Ben straightened and spoke slowly. “The Order needs information that was in your head. If your memories are gone…they don’t have any use for you. And they can’t let you go, at the risk of your memories coming back. So they’ll terminate you.”

“Oh.” Reality came crashing down on him. His legs felt like they’d give out, and it was with great difficulty that he stayed on his feet. “So…what do you propose we do?”

“As I said. We need to make a run for it.” Ben pointed to the pair of boots and he pulled them on, familiar with the lacings and the catches. They fit properly, but they seemed like something he hadn’t worn in awhile, like a less-favored pair of shoes. “We’ll disguise you as…as one of the outlying factions of the Order, and hide your face. So long as we can get to a ship, it’ll be fine.”

“How will we take a ship without them noticing? And what do you propose to do after that?”

"I can get us one, don't worry about that." Ben shrugged, unbuckling his belt and pulling his surcoat up over his head, then the gambeson underneath. "And I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Ben handed him the gambeson. “Put this on, no one will notice if I’m missing a layer.”

“You should, if we’re trying to go on the run we need a plan, we can’t....”

“Shut up Gen—“ Ben stopped abruptly.

He spun on Ben so fast he nearly fell over. “You know who I am?”

The look on Ben’s face bordered on terror. “…Genesis. Your name is Genesis.”

Even through the headache that was starting to pound behind his eyes, he knew Ben was lying. “Tell me the truth.” The tone in his voice was unyielding, something he hadn’t known himself capable of. Something about it felt natural though, so he filed that bit of information away for later.

“I don’t have a truth to tell you.” Ben shook his head and spoke slowly, much more careful with his words. “I don’t know who you are anymore. And I’m not going to bring who you used to be into this until you have a chance to decide who you want to be.”

“That doesn't even make sense. What happened?”

“Your memory was wiped.”

“What, like a droid? That’s not how the human mind works.”

“It’s...more complicated than that, but that’s the easiest way to explain it.” Ben shook his head. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense right now. But I need you to trust me, and just…do as I say for now. You do that and I can keep you alive, alright?”

 _Genesis._ It didn’t seem to fit, the same way the boots didn’t fit. Maybe something about it was familiar, if only just. It was just another nail in his head, adding to the existing pain of the headache. If his life was in danger, though…he could live with it. For now, it’d be like rucking with a stone in his boots, but he’d deal with it if he had to. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re...important. And because it’s the only real chance we’ve got.” His eyes were dark, angry, as though he hated that the admission had been dragged out of him.

“You said ‘we’. People are after you too?”

“They will be, if I try to keep you alive.”

Genesis shrugged the gambeson on and straightened it, realizing that it helped to bulk him out, even if it was too large in the shoulders. Ben pulled his surcoat back on over the layered undershirt and buckled his belt. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

Ben handed him an anonymous black helmet, plain with a large shaded glass lens covering much of the face. “Listen to me carefully. No matter who talks to you, even if it’s me, until we’re out of here you need to stay quiet.”

“What about you? Don’t you need a mask?”

Ben shook his head. “The cowl ought to be enough. I usually wear a mask, I doubt anyone will stop me even like this.”

* * *

Genesis quickly found that certain things were familiar-yet-unknown, like the boots. The halls he walked through alongside Ben were familiar, durasteel and narrow viewports slatted in the bulkhead, yet he was sure he’d never seen them before. Troops in familiar white armor marched past in contingents.

There was something in his gut that he recognized as fear, but there was also something more. Excitement, perhaps? Adrenaline, he finally realized. It was adrenaline. The threat of termination hanging over his head was enough to push him along in Ben’s wake.

After a bit of time, Ben pulled him aside into a storage niche in the wall, that seemed to open to a closet full of cleaning supplies. He punched the door shut and turned to Genesis, exasperated. “Alright, listen.”

Genesis pulled the helmet off, appreciating the unfiltered air. “What?”

“From here on out, you walk next to me. You still won’t need to talk, but if anyone questions you, you can nod in my direction. Worst case scenario, we get separated, and if that happens, you’re making for hangar eight. Got it?”

“If we get separated and someone tries to talk to me…?”

Ben grimaced. “Do your best to look intimidating and pretend you don’t speak Basic.”

“Who doesn’t speak Basic?”

“Look, you’re pretending to be one of the Knights of Ren, alright? They’re not all human, not all of them have the vocal cords for it. So just…fake it.”

“That’d never work.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Got a better idea?”

“No.”

“Then trust me.”

“I don’t even know why you’re doing this, how can I trust you?” 

Ben looked irritated. “I already told you.”

“Why are you _really_ doing it?”

“Because.”

The nervous tension in his chest was becoming unbearable. “Dammit, that’s not an answer. Why?”

“Because right now, I’m the only one who gives enough of a shit to keep you alive until you start to remember things. Look, what do you think of me? What’s your first thought?”

Genesis stared at him, trying to assess the situation. “…I want to trust you, but I don’t know.”

“Go with your gut for now. We’ll straighten things out later.” Ben paused. “Take a deep breath. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of them.”

“You’re right, I don’t think you are. You’re scared of me.” Ben frowned. “You should be afraid of them. I won’t hurt you. The Order will.” He tapped the helmet. “Put this on and just…trust me.” The words were somewhat soothing, and Genesis found himself nodding as he put it back on. The air tasted filtered and faintly of ash.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

* * *

They made it all the way to the hangar unaccosted. Genesis was beginning to think Ben’s plan would work, all the way up until they reached the boarding ramp to a sleek black ship with the silhouette of a bird of prey. _Upsilon class, SJFS-200a dual sublight ion drives, Sienar-Jaemus make_ his mind supplied without prompting. _Defensive shields, a full arsenal in the wings and targeting mechanism…_

“Excuse me! What do you think you’re doing?” They turned to find a female lieutenant quickly striding across the launch bay.

“Am I that difficult to recognize without my helmet, Lieutenant?” Ben said, his voice a careful monotone.

The woman hesitated for a moment, taking in his appearance before her jaw dropped. “Lord Ren! My apologies, I didn’t mean…”

He waved her away. “I have urgent orders from the Supreme Leader and have need of takeoff clearance.”

She glanced at Genesis and nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll call for clearance.”

The moment she was gone, Ben surged up the boarding ramp. “Let’s move.”

Once on board, Ben threw himself into the pilot’s seat, going through pre-flight check with speed born of familiarity. Genesis watched, trying to take it all in. It was familiar, and in an emergency he had the feeling he might be able to remember how to prep such a ship for takeoff, but watching Ben go through the motions was reassuring.

The comm on the dashboard came to life with the Lieutenant’s voice. “Sir, I have a message from the bridge, I’m patching them through to you.”

“This is Lieutenant-Colonel Mitaka, reporting for Colonel Datoo. Have you patched me through?” A voice crackled to life on the comm, familiar but odd enough that Genesis couldn’t put a name or face to it, although the name seemed familiar. _Mitaka?_

“Yes sir, he’s on the line,” the Lieutenant said.

“Lord Ren? What are you doing? We haven’t received any orders from the Supreme Leader in days, not since picking you up.” Mitaka’s voice came through clear, worried but steady.

“These orders were given before you came for me, Lieutenant.” Ben chewed his lip anxiously, although his voice was the same carefully controlled monotone.

There was a long moment of silence before the voice returned, tight and irritated at the way Ben blatantly ignored his rank. “Lord Ren, we have…”

“Give me the comm.” A new voice came on the line, again, oddly familiar. “Ren, I’m going to need the General’s clearance on this before…”

“Ah. Datoo. Haven’t heard from you in awhile.” Whatever it was that was happening seemed to push Ben over an edge. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to wait for you to find him,” he snapped. “This operation is time-dependent.”

“The General’s orders explicitly state…”

“Do you honestly think I care what he said?”

“Sir, I have my orders and…”

“He's my co-commander and I have every right to do as I see fit without his approval. I have my own orders, and they come from higher up.”

The voice on the line objected. “Lord Ren, I really can’t give you clearance without the General’s approval...”

“Good for you, Datoo. But I’m not waiting for it.” Ben grinned and powered up the dual sublight drives. There was a bone-deep hum and a commotion over the comm unit. 

“Ren, if you leave without clearance I’ll…!”

The comm snapped off when Ben flicked the switch, then looked to Genesis. “Buckle your harness, this might get ugly.”

* * *

Ben turned out to be a surprisingly good pilot, evading the few TIE fighters that were scrambled before they’d made it to a clear space where they could make the jump to lightspeed.

As they broke into hyperspace, Genesis pulled the helmet off and whooped in excitement. “That was _brilliant_ , I can’t believe they bought that!”

Ben gave him a confused smile, an expression that seemed a bit too strange for his face. “I...thanks?”

Genesis dropped into the copilot’s seat. “Well then. What now?”

Ben’s smile faded fast. “We’re in for an unpleasant interlude.” He set the ship to autopilot and rose from the pilot’s seat, going back to the berth to rummage about in what appeared to be a storage cabinet. He came to the table carrying a medical kit that Genesis looked at worriedly. “You’ve got a tracker in your arm.”

“I…what?”

“The Order outfitted you with a tracker. If we want to disappear entirely, we need to get it out and destroy it.”

Genesis’s stomach churned uneasily. “You’re joking.”

“It shouldn’t be too bad. Here, give me your arm, I’ll show you.” Ben stripped his gloves off and took Genesis’s right arm, pushing the sleeve up to reveal scars of old burns that looked like flesh-toned wax and ran from his wrist to the crook of his elbow. Turning Genesis's arm palm upward, Ben pressed his thumbs into the muscle for several minutes, pushing hard enough that the pads of his thumbs might leave bruises. Eventually he stopped and pushed his thumbs in, one on each side. Something solid under the skin and muscle seemed to pinch, “Right here. It’s about an inch deep.”

“And you’re just going to...cut it out?”

“We don’t have many other choices.” Ben rummaged about in the kit and returned with a razor, tweezers, what appeared to be a suture kit, and a bacta patch.

Genesis took a deep breath and steeled himself, then held his hand out. “I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

Ben hesitated. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

The first cut was the most difficult. Ben helped guide him, pinpointing the location of the tracker as Genesis dug through muscle. He gritted his teeth so tight his jaw began to ache. Still, there was no use in stopping. It had to be done, and the thought of Ben taking the razor to his arm made him cringe.

“You’re doing great. Look, just…just stay still a second, I’ve got an idea.” Ben came back a minute later with a dark piece of metal.

“What…?”

“Stay still.” There was a long moment where Ben held his hand over his arm, and then a strange shifting feeling. To his surprise, the tracker capsule popped out of the gash, landing in Ben’s hand with the piece of metal.

“Magnet.” Ben said smugly. “Here, stay still.” He grabbed a bacta patch from the kit, stripping the package and the adhesive backing off before pinching the sides of the gash closed and applying it.

“I could’ve managed on my own.”

Ben sat down and gave him an assessing look. “But you didn’t have to.”

They sat in silence for a time, measuring each other up. “Well, what now?” Genesis said eventually.

Ben sighed. “We sleep. You probably still need time to recover, and I haven’t slept properly in days.”

* * *

Early the next cycle, Genesis woke up on a slim cot, appreciating the hum of the dual sublight drives. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough white noise that he’d gone straight to sleep, and he looked up at the low overhead, wondering what the hell would happen next.

He didn’t know who he was. Supposedly Ben did, if his name was even Ben. Supposedly he was Genesis, Genesis without-a-last-name, and he was supposed to trust Ben with his life, which in retrospect seemed like a poor, adrenaline-fueled decision. They were running, and he wasn’t entirely sure who they were running from. The First Order? That told him next to nothing. He knew they were running from whoever had put a tracker in his arm, whoever owned the star destroyer they’d escaped.

It didn’t add up, there were too many loose ends. He pulled himself up from the cot, finding his clothes uncomfortably stuck to his skin, as though he’d sweated through the dreamless night. The back side of the bacta patch on his arm had seeped onto his shirt, and reluctantly came free as he picked at it.

All the questions could wait in the face of a more pressing need: a shower. He needed to find the refresher on board. Cleaning up would help him think more clearly.

By the time he found it and returned, Ben was awake. A couple hours later, they sat in the pilot and copilot’s seats, each having cleaned up and eaten.

Genesis sat in the copilot’s seat, carefully looking the controls over. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew these controls. Even if every other memory had abandoned him, he knew what they did, how the ship would respond to them. “So. What now?”

“We’re going to need to find a new ship,” Ben said, turning the magnet from the day before aimlessly over in his hands as he considered things.

“Why?”

“We took a First Order ship, it’ll be too noticeable if we’re trying to keep a low profile.”

Genesis hesitated. “Would they have tracking information on it? Could they follow us with this ship?”

Ben shook his head, looking smug. “I killed the old nav systems and installed a clean version of the software last night.”

“So what, you just happened to have a bootlegged version of the navigational software sitting around in case of emergency?”

Ben nodded. “Actually, yes. Never thought I’d have to use it, but here we are. Never thought I’d be on the run from the First Order either.”

There was a long moment as Genesis stared, trying to put all the pieces together in his head. They refused to fit properly and he frowned. “That Lieutenant called you Lord Ren. You were an officer."

"Yes."

Genesis waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming. "Alright. Fine. If you don't want to talk about it, fine. So let's talk about what's going on. We’ve got a hijacked ship that’s painfully noticeable. What do we do now?”

“Honestly? I think we should sell it, switch to something less obvious.”

“Isn’t this ship fairly capable? I was looking at the defense systems while you were in the ‘fresher, they’re top of the line. Why would we want to trade that out?”

Ben shook his head. “It won’t matter how nice the ship is if we get caught by an entire squadron of TIE fighters.”

“Ah. Right.”

“I say we make for Estaria, switch out for a less conspicuous ship, and move on.”

“Where will we go after?”

Ben’s face twisted with discomfort. “To be honest, I haven’t figured out that far ahead. Surviving was the first thing on the list, then escaping and making sure we stay free.”

Genesis tried to read into what he said, but it seemed fairly straightforward, if not the full truth. “We can work with that, I suppose.”

* * *

They made for Estaria, a planet in the Indrexu sector that was the capitol of the Estaria system. They dropped off The Axis and switched to the sublight drives, settling in and waiting. Ben swore that the outskirts of the capitol ought to have its fair share of potential trade-out facilities. Once they were close enough, the holonet showed a fairly local dealer, one that had halfway decent reviews and what Ben called ‘smuggler’s code’ hidden between the lines. Oddly enough, as Ben pointed the lines out, it quickly started to make sense. Genesis started to pick irregularities out of the reviews on his own, and Ben grinned and promised to teach him more once they’d figured things out planetside.

* * *

They set down on the far side of Estaria in dry, somewhat dusty outlands that contrasted the insanity of the capitol. They’d located the dealer through the holonet, and prepared themselves accordingly.

The two of them cut fairly imposing figures, dressed in dark robes similar to the ones they’d escaped the Finalizer in. Ben had thrown some robes and a bit of body armor that covered both his torso and shoulders at Genesis, and it’d done wonders to help bulk him out again. He fought the urge to scratch at the rough scarf, which he’d found functional but full of tiny spines. He vaguely wondered what species the previous owner had been.

Once inside the wall that served as a deterrent for unwanted guests, they found a small shipyard. Ships were scattered about the yard in various states of repair, the newest of them kept in a hangar on the far side of the facility. They approached the central awning, where two Zygerrians sat, playing a game of dejarik. They didn’t seem particularly intimidated. “How can I help you boys?” the first one asked, his voice bordering on a growl.

“Depends. Shall we discuss it over a game after you and your friend finish?”

“We were just finishing up this round. Pull up a chair and we’ll see what you can do.” The Zygerrian smiled, flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth. “I am Ghar but you, friends, you can call me Niero. And this is my fellow associate N’darag.”

Ben glanced back and nodded, laying hand on a pair of barrels similar to the ones the two traders sat on and rolling them over.

“You boys know how to play dejarik?”

Ben shrugged. “I do. My friend here, I’m not sure.”

N’darag turned to Genesis. “You?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Well, sit down and pay attention, you might learn a thing or two.”

They took seats and watched the Zygerrians finish their game. Niero won, earning a grimace from N’darag before resetting the circular board.

“So, tell me what you’ve come to ol’ Niero for today, my friend.” He flipped a disc for first move and found that Ben would start the game.

Ben looked over the pieces he’d been allotted.“We have this ship we may or may not have come into slightly less than legally. It’s beautiful, it’s solid, it’s fast…”

“Mmm, what’s the catch? Where did you boys get it?”

With a sheepish look, Ben shrugged and moved his Ng’ok. “…we might have borrowed it from the First Order.”

Niero’s eyes widened and his hand hovered over the board as he thought through his next move. “Ah, well, now you have my attention. Have the trackers been removed? I don’t want the Order crashing my yard.”

“And the nav systems wiped and reinstalled, clean non-First Order software. Yes. Which is why we figured it’d be safe to sell.”

Niero laughed and shifted his Monnok. “Did it yourself, did you?”

“Only after hunting down all the trackers onboard.”

“Hmm…” the Zygerrian watched Ben move his Molator with an amused expression. “You seem pretty confident. You sure you got them all?”

“And scanned it after. It’s clean, that I can promise.”

“What class are we talking?”

“It’s an Upsilon-class command shuttle.”

Niero whistled. “And you boys want to trade her away?” He shook his head and moved his Savrip to Ben’s Ghhhk. The resulting fight resulted in a kill, and Ben frowned as his piece blinked out of existence. “Tell me about her and I’ll think it over.”

Ben started rattling off stats, and even Genesis was mildly impressed. “Dual sublight drives that could clear the atmosphere and gravity well here in four minutes flat. Full arsenal and defensive systems still intact in her wings, upper wing sensor suites operational, although I don’t know that I’d trust them to tell friend from foe, if you know what I mean.” He moved his Molator again and the Zygerrian stopped, finding that he would be forced to fight no matter what move he made. Ben grinned and went after Niero’s Strider. “Shield projectors operational and jammers more powerful than any I’ve ever seen on a ship her size.” The battle was longer than expected, but the Strider finally blinked out of existence with the kill.

Niero grimaced and stood. “Sounds like you’ve got the real deal. I want to see her.”

Ben grinned, something feral in his expression. “Now we’re talking.”

* * *

Niero stomped about the ship in his heavy boots, constantly trying to hide his expression. N’darag did a rather better job, but both were fairly impressed. Eventually, he returned to the space near the onboarding ramp, where they waited. “Well boys, I can only give you about fifty thousand credits.”

“Yeah, we can’t take that.” Ben said flatly and shook his head. Genesis bristled.

“Look, as I see it, you stole this ship. Means the Order is coming after you, even if you got all the trackers off. Mind you, I’m going to check myself, so this isn’t saying much. Basically, you need to get her off your hands, so you’re trying to sell her, trade her out for another ship.” Niero shrugged, smoothing his crest back. “I’ve got what you need. I’ve got some credits for you and a yard full of used ships you could trade out for them.”

“We can’t go that low. And believe me when I say I know half a dozen other places that would take her in a heartbeat.”

“Why aren’t you there then?”

“Your operation seemed rather more…discreet.”

“Hah! A half-assed operation on a half-assed little backworlds planet, you mean.” Niero frowned. “I’ll have to put her up on the holo to find a buyer. Runs the risk of some Order goon seeing it. Eighty thousand credits. This is as high as I can go. Take it or leave it.”

“A hundred thousand.”

“Eighty thousand and I’ll give you another ten to put toward a clean ship if you buy from me.”

Ben stared him down, then finally held his hand out. “Deal.”

“What?!” Genesis had held his tongue for the most part, but the indignity of the price the dealer was offering finally got to him. “This ship is worth nearly eight times that, and you know it!”

Niero seemed unfazed. “I don’t offer more than I can recoup, and I know this ship will be hard to sell. Besides…”

Genesis started in on him, giving him an earful as Ben stood aside, watching with amusement. N’darag stood next to him and grumbled, “Is coppertop here always so angry?” before turning away.

“You have no idea.”

The argument lasted nearly another ten minutes before Genesis finally turned back to Ben. “We’re not accepting this offer.”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t know if we have a choice.”

Niero looked sympathetic. “If you buy a used ship from me, I’ll even add the fuel rods without charge. It’ll help make up the difference a bit.”

“We’ll take you up on the offer, and then I think we’re going to head into town and mull our options over for the night,” Ben said, putting a hand on Genesis’s shoulder as he sputtered angrily. “If nothing else, a couple drinks might help cool some tempers.”

Niero nodded and clapped Ben on the back as Genesis fumed. “Excellent!

* * *

With the credits split on a couple of cards in their pockets, the two of them walked down the dusty road toward town, full rucksacks on their backs. They’d taken almost everything useful from the Upsilon and packed it into rucksacks before leaving the ignition sequence with Niero.

They ducked into a pub once they made it to town, a small local place that went silent as they entered, then picked up volume again as Ben waved a noncommittal hello and made for an empty table.

They hadn’t yet managed to sit down when they were addressed by a Samuac, who looked at each of them with with deep red eyes, although otherwise he appeared human. “Holla, Loyd, look at these two. Come get them a round on me, you know I like to welcome strangers,” he called out to the bartender, who appeared to be Themian at first glance, with sharp features, brown skin and hair, and arms covered in intricate tattoos.

“You two aren’t from around here,” the Samuac continued conversationally as they pulled their packs off and sat down at a table. “I’m Nawaro. You fancy a round of dejarik?”

Genesis paused. “I just learned, I’m no good.”

Nawaro glanced around. “You hear this? He just learned, he’s no good.”

Ben barked a laugh. “You want a challenge, I’ll play. He’s not kidding, he just picked it up. I had a game with Niero, out on the outskirts, earlier. I'm up for another.”

“Niero Ghar? How’s the old bastard doing? Still screwing people out of their money, I take it?”

“You could say that,” Genesis grumbled.

A couple of them laughed at that, and the conversation loosened up. The locals, for the most part, were an easygoing lot eager to hear any new stories the travelers could bring. Ben was rather better for them, lying with ease. Genesis sat at the next table over from the game of dejarik and drank.

“What do you use to get your hair that color?” a woman asked, dropping into the seat next to him and peering at Genesis’s hair.

He hesitated. “It’s, uh, normally that color.”

“What? How? Is it some sort of mutation? Is it…” she fawned over him for the rest of the evening, to his annoyance.

* * *

For the most part, everyone chatted enthusiastically. There was a solitary figure in the corner of the bar that no one but the bartender approached. Shera, the woman who’d taken a liking to Genesis’s hair, whispered when he asked after the lone figure. “That’s Asmodan. He’s in here most of the time, never really runs out of money but doesn’t want to talk to anyone either. People say he’s drinking to forget something, but nobody knows what.” 

For some reason that Genesis couldn’t place, he felt sorry for the man.

* * *

When it was late, people started to file out to their respective homes. Shera spoke up as she covered her tab. “Where are the two of you staying? There’s Bel’s place on the next road over, she’s always willing to rent rooms to guests.”

“We’ve got a ship, but thank you,” Ben said. Genesis bristled, but Ben’s hand landed on his shoulder until the others had dispersed. “Don’t worry about it, it’s alright.”

“Alright? What do you propose we do then? We don’t have anywhere to stay and we hardly have the credits to get by for any amount of time.”

“I propose we go pick up our ship.”

“Eighty thousand credits won’t buy us a decent ship,” Genesis said bluntly. “I might not remember much of anything, but I’m not stupid.”

“Right. We’re not going to be buying a ship with them.”

Genesis stopped dead. “What?”

“Well…you see these…?” Ben produced a set of keys with a small flimsi tag attached from somewhere in his robes. “I figured if he was going to rip us off, we’d return the favor. Keys and ignition sequence. We should be good to go.”

“Where did you get those?”

“I lifted them.” Ben shrugged. “Niero hit us with highway robbery for the Upsilon, so we’re going to give him a taste of his own medicine. Their operations are much less than legal, we can threaten to send law enforcement after them if they want to report the loss. I figure we’ll leave them a little note.”

Genesis grinned. “I like it. So what’s the plan?”

* * *

At nightfall, they stood outside the shipyard and hangar, which stood incredibly quiet in the darkness. Ben climbed up the wall, carefully avoiding the couple spikes implanted in the mortar as half-hearted defense mechanisms.

They drifted from ship to ship like a pair of shadows as Ben clicked the button on the key fob. Nothing. No response.

“Did it occur to you that maybe those aren’t the match to one of these? Maybe they’re keys to Niero’s secret stash of dirty magazines.”

Ben stopped, his head swiveling around eerily fast. “Wait.”

“What…?”

“Shhhh,” he said. Genesis fell silent, listening for anyone else. There was an absence of humanoid sounds, but instead, there was a faint growling.

The grimace on Ben’s face wasn’t reassuring. “If I say run, run,” he hissed.

The sources of the growls quickly became apparent. Two massive Akk dogs prowled toward them across the yard, padding on clawed feet that skittered small stones through the dust. Their scales glinted dark orange in the faint glow of the distant floodlight.

“Ben? Can we run?” Genesis backed away slowly, but Ben held his hand out in front of him, as if to defend himself from the beasts.

“Shhh.” He looked at the animals, took a deep breath, and stood up to his full height. His hand curled at the same time, and the first Akk dog perked up. He made the same noise and the same motion, and they both sat.

“What…?”

Ben held his ground and made another hand motion. The Akk dogs looked at him for a moment before one of them tilted its head, then lowered it in submission. Then it turned around and left. The other prowled up slowly, pressing its head into Ben’s outstretched hand before turning and following its mate.

Genesis breathed sigh of relief. The Akk dogs were clearly trained, and Ben somehow knew the commands. They weren’t shredded piles of meat. Maybe this had a chance of working.

“They’re pack animals. They’ll back down if you prove you’re completely unafraid of them,” Ben said, as if answering his question. “Come on.”

* * *

Half an hour later, they were down to the last few ships, and they were anything but promising.

“That’s it?” Genesis hissed when they finally found the ship that matched. “That’s the one you stole the keys for?”

Ben shrugged. “It’s a bit on the older side, but it’ll do.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s a mess. If ships were people, that thing would belong in a nursing home.”

A bit of a grin split Ben’s face. “Did you just call our ship an old lady?”

“…yes. Without question.” He looked up at the hulking mass in the dark. “I can hardly see it and I can tell it’s a hunk of junk.”

“Do you want it or not?”

Genesis sighed. “Yeah, I guess, it’s better than nothing…”

“Told you,” Ben said.

A few minutes later, the ship fired up surprisingly easy and they were on their way.

* * *

“We need to run diagnostics and check this thing out,” Genesis said, sitting in the copilot’s seat and taking everything into account. As ratty as the interior of the ship was, he’d grudgingly admitted to himself that the seat was more comfortable than that of the Upsilon. “Next chance we get to go planetside on a habitable planet, we need to take it.”

Ben nodded. “We can find somewhere for repairs and then…”

“I can do the diagnostics, we don’t need to find a mechanic.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ben sounded skeptical. “You’ve forgotten just about everything.”

“But I know I know machines. I can run the diagnostics, I swear.” Genesis wasn’t sure how, but he had a feeling that this was what he was supposed to do. “Just...let me do this.”

Ben gave him a long look, then gave in. “Alright. If you say so, I’ll trust you to get it done.”

“Speaking of which,” Genesis hesitated. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You still don’t. You can’t.” Ben shrugged. “But you have to. You don’t have any other choice.”

“What if I get up and leave, right now?”

He sighed. “Technically, you have another choice. I could drop you on the next inhabited planet if you really wanted, but I’m taking the ship.”

Genesis gritted his teeth. “Fine.”

Ben looked at him, dark eyes solemn but otherwise unreadable. “Why did you trust me in the first place?”

There was a long pause as Genesis mulled it over. Why had he? There hadn’t been any particular reason. He’d been confused, he’d been frightened, and Ben had been the only person he found he might be able to depend on. “I’m not sure. A gut feeling, maybe?”

“Well, it’s a gut feeling that’s making me trust you, so maybe return the favor in...a mutual exchange of trust. We depend on each other or we’re fucked.” 

Genesis snorted. “Sure, but I’d say we’re depending on this rust bucket.”

“Speaking of which, we need a name for her.” Ben seemed to consider for a moment, then grinned. “You said yourself, she’s an old lady.”

“Yeah. The sublight drive itself doesn’t sound too bad, it’s running cool.”

“I think she’s got some fight in her yet. A few repairs here and there and she’ll be all good. I say we name her after my grandmother.”

“What.” Genesis deadpanned.

“The _Naberrie’s Revenge_. It’s got a nice ring to it.” His mouth ticked up in an odd half-smile.

“We’re not naming her after your grandmother,” Genesis said flatly.

“Why not? What else do you recommend naming it after?” Ben looked like he might just laugh himself sick. Whatever the joke was, Genesis clearly hadn’t understood it.

“It just…doesn’t it seem a bit rude naming this piece of junk after your own grandmother?” He stared down at his hands for a bit, trying to figure out what Ben’s motivations might be and drawing a blank.

“My grandmother was a fighter, and naming the ship after her is…I don’t know. Ironic? I know some people it’d piss off.”

Genesis relented. “It sounds like our entire existence pisses people off. Let’s do it.”

* * *

“We should stop on Oon Tien for supplies. Fuel and the like. Repairs.”

Genesis brushed his hands down his pants. “I want to take a look at the ship. It’s old but I’m sure there are at least half a dozen repairs or upgrades I could make. At the very least, we need to keep it in the air.”

“Her,” Ben corrected with a grin. “We named this thing after my grandma, you better refer to her with _respect_.”

“Fine. I want to take a look at _her_.” He shook his head. “And for the record, you named her.”

Ben beamed with something that might have been pride.

* * *

They made for Oon Tien, where Ben said he knew of a fairly reputable dealer that had a way of getting her hands on anything they might want.

“If she’s still alive, at least,” he’d conceded.

They circumnavigated nearly half the planet to locate the town Ben had referred to, but landing on the outskirts in a fairly open, grassy space did wonders for Genesis’s attitude. The sun shone low on the horizon, but the sunset was the clear red of the high particulate levels in the atmosphere. The grass slithered harmlessly against his boots once he was outside, and the air smelled faintly of ash and rust, but it was planetside. He would make do.

He checked the ship over piece by piece, categorizing the repairs and upgrades she needed. It was simple, methodical, and straightforward. Ben had been right, the sublight drive wasn’t in bad shape. Genesis would have preferred a newer ion drive, but some things he knew he couldn’t win. Ben sat in the grass, eyes closed, legs crossed, and said nothing.

“What are you doing?” Genesis asked after several hours. Ben hadn’t moved so much as a muscle.

“Meditating,” he responded without opening his eyes.

“Meditating? Does that actually do anything?”

“Think of it as deep thought. I’m trying to see a path forward for us.”

Genesis snorted. “That sounds like mystical nonsense.”

“Trust me on this, it’s not. Now let me think.”

* * *

Genesis finished cataloguing the repairs he wanted to make within a couple hours. The drive ran smoothly but was horribly inefficient, and that was the first thing he wanted to tackle. It would likely take at least a week for the booster installation, even if he had access to all the parts.

Access to parts was another issue entirely. He vaguely wondered what Ben’s big plan was. There didn’t seem to be any obvious way forward. They needed supplies to live, and then parts to fix up the _Revenge_ if they were to stay there for the foreseeable future. The credits they had on hand wouldn’t cover all the repairs, so they needed to find a way to earn money.

Genesis took momentary stock of his own abilities. He could fix things, it seemed. Mechanics were as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He’d started learning smuggler’s code within minutes of Ben starting to teach him, but he could think of little else. What did that equate to? A career as a mechanic? It didn’t have much appeal. Did he even have an applicable skill set? The past few days had shown that he had skills, but they were varied and seemingly impossible to predict.

Again, he wondered who he’d been before he’d lost it all. Perhaps it was time to push Ben into giving up more information.

* * *

Ben returned to the _Revenge_ as the sun started to set, moving stiffly on over-stretched joints. He found Genesis playing dejarik against the computer.

“Got a list of things we’ll need?”

“You know, you’re lucky I have this bizarre ability to understand mechanics. If you’d been out here without me, you’d have paid more for repairs than this ship is worth.”

“I wouldn’t be out here in this ship without you, remember?”

Genesis felt his face burn. “Right.”

“We’ll sleep the rest of the cycle and head into town in the morning. The holonet says Elie Varen’s shop is still there, so I figure she is too.” Ben shrugged out of his robe and headed for the ‘fresher, calling back, “We’ll pick up other supplies as well while we’re in town.”

* * *

They stopped at a number of street stalls on the way to the shop Ben was familiar with. Many of them had food, spices and desert fruit, chilled eggs of unidentifiable origins, slabs of multicolored meat on ice. Genesis took it all in, the street vendors frying and selling things to go, and his stomach growling at the memory of the carboprotein blocks they’d eaten over the past few days. Real food smelled and looked delicious, and hunger panged through him, surprisingly sharp.

Ben glanced over at him, his face fairly open and expressive. “We’ll stop for food on our way back. Other supplies too, if we can afford them.”

The promise of a fresh meal kept Genesis on his feet. Instead of stopping, they tromped down the street to a warehouse with a couple of ugly neon signs declaring ‘Varen’s Parts’. There were a selection of notices on a bulletin beside the door, many of them indiscreet with the services they offered. Ben looked at them and paused. “You know,” he finally said, “I remember her having a low-brow sense of humor but I feel like the signs might be pushing it a bit.”

The front door to the warehouse had a set of old chimes on it that rang sadly as they entered. An old woman sat behind the table with her boots kicked up, wearing long grey robes that seemed to pool around her and a pair of small blasters, one on each hip. 

She looked Ben up and down before glancing over to Genesis. Her eyes widened a bit behind her bifocals as she took him in, one sparse grey eyebrow rising. “Well, what have we here?”

“Elie Varen?”

She nodded, pulling her feet down from the table. “That’d be me.”

Ben nudged him forward to talk to her. “We’re, ah, looking for a number of parts. Any chance you could take a look and see if you’ve got anything in stock?”

She harrumphed. “If I don’t have it in stock, I can get it in stock if you give me a couple days. It just depends what you’re willing to pay.” Genesis passed her the pad of flimsi he held and she peered down at it, doing a quick scan. “Mmhmm. I’ve got quite a few things in stock, but not all of ‘em.”

“Would you mind pricing out the things you’ve got?”

“Oooh, you’ve got quite the accent there, my dear.” She stretched a bit, rolling her shoulders. “Parts and labor or just...parts?” Genesis stared at her. She must’ve been at least 70, and he’d swear she’d just propositioned him.

“Just parts, thanks,” Ben grumbled, stepping in.

She shrugged. “Give me a few, love. Can do.”

When she returned with a scribbled sheet of flimsi, each part priced out in red pen. Ben took one look at it and shook his head. “This price isn’t even close to fair market, I know you’re not like this.”

Elie harrumphed again, a weird cough-like sound. “What on earth are you thinking boy? You, think you know me? My reputation precedes me, certainly, but you can't get so personal with a lady until you've known her awhile.”

“Look. Elie. It’s me.” Ben’s face started to redden. “It’s Ben Solo. Remember me?” Genesis stared. Solo? He committed it to memory. It seemed ‘Walker’ wasn’t entirely accurate.

“You what now?” She stopped dead and stared. After a long minute of careful scrutiny, she reached out and tucked his hair behind one ear. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Little Benny Solo? I'll be damned. You’ve sure as shit got his nose and ears. I haven’t seen you in years. How’s the old man?”

Ben’s face fell with dismay. He quickly gathered himself and quietly said, “Uh…he’s…he’s dead.”

Her face fell. “Oh I’m so sorry, I had no idea! What happened?”

He hesitated, then said “He was killed by the First Order.”

There was a moment where Genesis believed him, even pitied him, before he realized Ben was lying through his teeth. Elie looked upset and Ben looked appropriately remorseful, but somehow, Genesis knew he was lying.

“Another good soul gone to meet their maker, it seems. Your father was an ass on occasion, but deep down he was a good man.” She sighed heavily. “I suppose I could rework some of these prices, but not as low as I’m sure you want.”

Ben turned to Genesis. “Let’s prioritize. What’s your first concern?”

She gave him a wry look as he considered the list. “So it seems I know you, but who’s this?”

Genesis stilled, the full weight of her stare on him. “I’m uh…a friend.”

She gave him a knowing look. “A friend, huh? Well, any friend of Benny’s is a friend of mine. You got a name?”

“Genesis.” It slipped from his lips, a lie that got easier with practice.

“Know your way around a ship, Genesis?”

“You’d better believe it. Better than Ben does, I’d say.” He gave her a smile, somewhat tentative.

She winked animatedly. “Oooooh Benny boy, I bet you he gives you a run for your money. Snappy little fox he is.”

She barely came up to his chest yet there she was, calling him little. His face burned as he handed her the list again. She considered it, then led them back into the stacks of shelving in the warehouse. “I’ve got quite a bit of this on hand. Let’s take a look, shall we?” She made small talk with Ben as they walked. “How’s your mum?”

“I, uh, don’t keep up with her these days.”

“What, really? She was always so good to me, your mum. If you do see her, tell her I said hello.” She snagged a metal dolly from the wall and wheeled it into Ben’s hands. “You’ll need that.”

* * *

They went from row to row, haggling and chatting. Genesis followed behind, watching and listening, although his attention was more focused on the variety of parts. It was like a mental exercise, seeing parts and trying to identify the machine, make, and model they might match to. Although he wasn’t sure how correct he was, he found himself drawing a blank infrequently.

Eventually, a bag tucked under a worktable caught his attention as they walked by. It was a plain canvas bag, full of bits and pieces, hardly more than a pile of scraps. Whatever it was, it was deactivated, disassembled, and clearly worthless. He almost walked by, but curiosity dragged at him, a nagging sensation in the back of his mind.

He went back and opened the bag, pushing aside a flap to find it full to brimming with droid bits. He rummaged, determining that the casement was intact, if rusty and scratched. The paint job was awful. It looked like it had once been green, and perhaps purple before that. Where paint had flaked or chipped off, it had rusted in whatever ungodly conditions it had been stored in before the warehouse.

“What’s this?”

Elie turned back to look at him from halfway down the row where she'd continued with Ben. “Oh that? Just an old protocol droid. I got it from some asshole as collateral for a couple parts, but he never came back. The other stuff was easy to sell, but that thing’s worthless. I’d be lucky to get its weight in scrap costs.”

Genesis crouched, staring at it and hearing his heart in his ears, pounding away frantically. He didn’t know why, but he knew he could fix the sorry thing. He slid the bag out from under the table, rummaging about for a minute before looking up. “What do you want for it?”

Elie stopped and turned to him, confused for a moment before she turned his question around on him. “What do you want it for?”

The expression on Ben’s face was strange, but he pushed the thought aside and answered as best as he could. “I want to fix it.” The itch in the back of his mind was back, pressing, but he pushed it away. He didn’t say he needed to fix it. He didn’t say he had to fix it. There wasn’t a real reason, nothing he could pinpoint, but he _needed_ it.

Elie fixed him with a look, then shrugged. “Take it, it’s yours. It’s not worth anything to me anyway.”

* * *

Ben negotiated with Elie for the parts she had in-stock. Although he worked the prices down, it was still a considerable chunk out of their budget.

“Look, I’m being lenient this time but if I have to order the rest of these parts in, there’s going to be an additional cost associated with obtaining them. So I’ve got a proposition for you,” she said as she ran the digital credit transfer chip.

Genesis glanced up from where he’d been poking about in the droid’s inner casement, listening carefully. “There’s a man who owes me, big time. I know he’s good for the money, but he skipped the planet and I’m too old to go after him myself. Besides, that’d be bad for business.” She handed him the card and smiled a bit. “I’d be willing to trade the rest of the parts you need for his sorry hide.”

Genesis hesitated. “You want him dead? That’s a bit extreme for…”

“Oh no, I want him still _in_ said hide. But he’s an asshole, and I’ve been thinking about taking a bounty out on him. So if the two of you need parts, and I want him, it’d be mutually beneficial for the two of you to go get him for me. I’d rather save the expense of taking out an attractive bounty on him.”

“It’ll be about a week before I’m finished with the repairs and upgrades. How soon do you need him?” Genesis spoke up.

She considered. “I’ll give you a month before I take out an actual bounty. You get your parts, I get paid...or not, hell, I don't care. Point being, we’re all happy. Except for him.” She transferred a collection notice to the datapad in Ben’s hand. “If you really want, bring him back dead or alive, I suppose I don’t care all that much. I want his wallet though.”

They left the shop with a path forward. Genesis tried not to grumble about meditation being useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Yo. If my cost approximations are bad, I’m sorry. This sort of takes into account the economic collapse following the fall of the Empire. Idk what the value of a credit is, so give me corrections or just roll with me.
> 
> Questions, concerns, and comments always welcome!
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr at versus-verses


	4. Neutralization

Kylo woke early.

Not as early as Hux, he quickly found, feeling about the ship with the Force. The man had forgotten nearly everything about himself but his body still seemed to operate on some kind of ungodly schedule. He’d woken earlier and set to replacing and upgrading the outdated hyperdrive power converter.

After a quick carboprotein block, Kylo sat down in the shade under the ship to meditate. He quickly ran through the objectives that had become apparent, in order of priority:

Get (and keep) Hux and himself out of the hands of the First Order and the Resistance. So far, check.

Food and shelter and, if possible, a ship. A shitty ship, but check.

Help Hux. This one, Kylo found himself stuck on. It was a vague concept, and he hadn’t even been sure he would make it to step three. He wasn’t sure what constituted at ‘help’ at this point. Did he tell Hux who he was and risk triggering his memories? Were there any memories left to trigger?

He took a deep breath and tried to think through the pros and cons of telling Hux the truth. Pros: Hux might regain some of his memories; if not he’d at least stop asking. Maybe he’d understand the importance of staying away from the Order? There weren’t any other reasons that immediately jumped out at him.

The cons: if Hux regained his memories, he might return to his warpath to build a second Starkiller; he might not regain his memories and the guilt would eat him alive; Hux knowing his own identity would put them at higher risk for accidental discovery.

Kylo put the idea of ‘help’ on the back burner. Perhaps it would be best to talk to Hux and try to determine what might be best for him? Of course, Hux would want to know who he was. Why wouldn’t he? For the time being, Kylo pushed the thought aside. They had a goal, however temporary. For now, they would do Elie’s job and see where it took them. 

If they could manage all of that, they’d have to keep themselves out of the hands of the Order and the Resistance for the long term and build some kind of life around that.

He was struck by the gut-wrenching realization that Hux didn't remember whatever it was that had been between them. Whatever it had been, it was gone. It might not even be possible to build a new life built on running away. He couldn't keep Hux in the dark forever.

He cycled back to the first goal and took a deep breath. Perhaps he could keep Hux from asking too many questions until they got settled. Worst case scenario, he could use mind tricks to influence him.

* * *

He rose from meditation late midday, feeling about for Hux with the Force again and finding that he’d been ignoring hunger pangs for hours as he worked on the ship. It was far past time for a midday meal, and Kylo remembered with a vaguely guilty start that he’d promised Hux a fresh meal instead of rations.

When he found him, Hux was sidled in alongside the hyperdrive power converter, slowly working the bolts free having gotten it safely suspended from the upper deck and bulkhead. “Interested in a break for lunch?”

Hux didn’t even look his way, as if he’d known Kylo was there even though he couldn’t possibly see him around the converter. “Let me loosen the rest of these bolts, I’d rather not leave a step half done.”

Kylo sat down and waited as Hux redoubled his efforts, arms straining against the long-stuck bolts. It was almost amusing, watching him struggle with the stupid things, but Kylo kept his mouth carefully shut as Hux managed to loosen them one by one. With the last one undone and the entire framework finally free of its decades-old hold, Hux enlisted his help to lower the converter and casement to the deck. 

“Shouldn’t be too hard to introduce the replacement. Wiring it will be tricky, but I can handle it.” That done, Hux looked at the freed converter approvingly. “You said something about lunch?”

* * *

When they first arrived at the market, Hux didn't seem to be able to take everything in. Kylo could feel his ever-shifting surface level thoughts, flickering between the sights and sound as Hux found it impossible to look at all the different stalls at the same time.

The appreciation for the different sights and smells leeched from Hux's mind and Kylo remembered the food on the _Finalizer_. It'd been poor in comparison, little more than space rations, never fresh enough to warrant appreciation. Here, almost everything was fresh or preserved through methods other than freeze-drying, a necessity of the environment. 

There were salted hocks of meat hung up on poles, fresh vegetables encased with multicolored skins, all kinds of different produce, to the extent that Hux seemed to find it near-dizzying.

Even though he couldn't remember the _Finalizer_ , Kylo could tell Hux was a bit overwhelmed. They passed an Agorffi, too large for his stall, selling a variety of spices. As Kylo went through, picking up goods from different vendors, Hux stood around smelling the spices, the street food, and watching a woman who appeared to be at least part-human in the neighboring stall make what smelled like fried Normai-root.

As they moved from vendor to vendor, Kylo negotiated for everything he thought they might need. Sure, he was unfamiliar with a number of the foods here, but there were certain things you found through much of the galaxy. Meat was much the same, as were eggs. Grains weren’t too difficult to come by, and he bought a bag of something that seemed to be approximately the same consistency of rice from a tiny old Hewett whose goggles were bigger than the rest of his face.

Kylo looked up to find Hux watching the next vendor over slice and open one of the Tarkas fruits she sold with astonishment. The slosh of liquid inside when the top was split seemed to puzzle him, and there was little question that the feeling radiating off of him was curiosity. "Never seen Tarkas fruit?"

Hux shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I...might have? What is it? What does it taste like?"

With a bit of a grin, Kylo went ahead and bought one, letting Hux stand and watch as the vendor prepped it. She took a massive knife and skinned the top part before stopping and turning the knife. She jammed it in, shoving it into the side of the fruit with a meaty _thunk_ , then removed it and pried the top of the fruit partially up, just enough to expose the liquid inside. She handed it over to Kylo in exchange for the credit and pointed him to the accessory bar along the side of her booth, where he found straws and a variety of other toppings, sweet syrups and the like.

Hux hesitated as the heavy fruit was plunked into his hands, simply staring at it in confusion. Kylo sighed and grabbed another straw, slipping it into the fruit and taking a sip. "It won't kill you, if that's what you're worried about."

Hux cleared his throat. "Ah. Right." He eyed it warily again, then took a similar sip and nearly dropped it in surprise. “It’s so sweet…?”

“The milk is, but the meat of it isn’t, it’s almost savory. We can use it for dinner.”

The expression on Hux’s face was somewhere between confusion and disgust. “Meat?”

“Oh. Right. Alright, that’s the word for the actual fruit in there, the part of it that isn’t liquid.”

Hux’s relief was palpable.

They continued shopping the bazaar, Kylo buying everything from meat to vegetables and fruit to spices, packing them all away and fitting them into the open bags he and Hux carried. Hux carried the Tarkas fruit in one hand until the liquid was gone, when Kylo took it and tucked it away in one of the bags. When he was satisfied with their stock of food, he turned to Hux. “Anything else you can think of?”

“I’d really like some soap. And…” he considered, “…a razor? Just…personal hygiene things. The ‘fresher is rather lacking.”

Kylo internally admitted he was right. They were nearly out of the single-use cleaning packets they’d found stashed in one of the corner cabinets. “Yeah, we’ll stop. But you probably don’t want to shave."

Hux glanced over at him, frowning. “I hate the scruff, it makes me look old.”

“Does not. It makes you look…mature.”

“You mean old.”

Kylo sighed. “Besides, it’ll help you avoid facial recognition tech if someone comes looking for us.”

The flash in Hux’s eyes was unmistakable. “Who?”

“Anyone. I told you, a lot of people are after us.”

“What about you?” The stubble on Kylo’s face wasn’t nearly as heavy.

“I wore a mask almost all the time. Hardly anyone knows what I look like.”

“And people would know what I look like?”

Ah. There it was. The bastard was probing for information under the guise of confusion. Kylo took a deep breath, finally replying with, “Yes. They would. We can talk about it some other time, somewhere more private.”

They stopped at a stall where a woman was selling soaps of various kinds of textures and smells, although they all had the oily grey sheen of merrinswax. She urged them to smell them, and Hux finally picked one out that he said was familiar, but that he couldn’t place. She chatted as she wrapped it up, mentioning that it was specially harvested Lorrinash from some special place or another. Kylo barely paid attention, caught up in thinking of any other ingredients he needed for a meal.

They eventually left, Hux radiating a feeling of contentedness that Kylo had never felt from him before.

* * *

When they returned to the ship and unpacked everything in the small galley, Hux looked at the things spread out on the counter and hesitated. “Ah…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Did I know how to cook?”

Kylo stopped and frowned. “I’m not actually sure.”

“Can _you_ cook?”

“Of course,” he said indignantly.

“…can you teach me?”

It hadn’t occurred to Kylo that Hux had been raised in mess halls and on field rations. He’d probably had no idea what to do, even before the loss of his memory. “Of course.”

Kylo talked his way through each step of the process and had Hux work on the Tarkas fruit, hacking the meat away from the hard outer shell, adding it to the soup Kylo whipped together. When they dug in, he skimmed Hux’s mind and found his pleasant surprise with the food, particularly the deep, spicy aroma.

With full stomachs, sleep came easily that night.

* * *

The next day, Kylo meditated and tried to parse each part of the predicament they were in.

He had to keep them safe, and to do so, he decided had to keep Hux in the dark about his identity. Guilt ate at him for that, piling on top of the remaining guilt for his father’s death. Killing Han was supposed to make him stronger, but it had only succeeded in dragging him further into that grey space between the light and the dark. He’d fallen so far that his grip on the dark had loosened, although it didn’t seem to be making him weaker.

It occurred to him that his weakness might reduce his force abilities, but it hadn’t occurred to him until then to test them. He reached for the fire Snoke had taught him to summon tentatively, feeling for it with open yet unseeing eyes. When he found the burn, he took a deep breath, stoking the flames and feeling them crackle along under his skin. One look at his hands proved that he was correct, and that his newfound abilities hadn’t abandoned him when he’d fled the Order.

That brought about another line of thought. Could Snoke influence him all the way out here? They were practically on the far side of the galaxy, but how far could she extend her reach? Perhaps that was a question for another day. He’d found her influence weakened away from Moraband, and she’d been notably absent from his head. So. Perhaps they were safe. Safe enough, he amended.

With any luck, she’d only recently discovered his betrayal. With the hierarchy of the Order, there were few that would dare question orders from the Supreme Leader passed down through two of her top commanding officers. Phasma was one of the few that might be bold enough to approach the Supreme Leader, given a long enough radio silence from the General.

With luck, it’d taken them several more days to realize that the General had disappeared from the ship at the same time Kylo Ren had made an unauthorized takeoff. Their next action would be to check the trackers on the Upsilon, which Kylo knew he’d deactivated in the best time he could. They’d check for the General’s tracker and find it non-functional. When all of that was said and done, they’d most likely operate the _Finalizer_ as usual for several days, if not an entire week, before someone inevitably caved and approached the Supreme Leader for further orders.

Kylo hoped that Phasma had been the one to step up. Certainly she had a lot on her plate with her troopers and the psytechs, but to him she was one of the few genuinely competent officers in combat. He’d taken to Phasma almost immediately, sparred with her in the combat training rooms, even taken meals with her on occasion.

Datoo would have been tolerable. Obnoxious, but tolerable.

He’d never liked Unamo very much. Too stuck-up, too full of herself and too confident by half of her own abilities. He’d never thought much of her officer training, even when he’d been in her head. Sure, she was older than a number of the other officers and had rightfully risen to her position, but she was entirely untested by combat. All of her training had been in the simulators, something Kylo detested especially after the traitor FN-2187 had fled.

He ran through the other officers that might take command of the _Finalizer_. All moderately competent, but with no more merit than the others. At least they’d been through proper field training.

Hux had been one of the few officers that, while Kylo sometimes hated him because quite frankly, he was a dick, certainly wasn’t incompetent. In his head, Kylo had seen extensive field training and a number of combat deployments and scenarios that might have been considered impossible by another officer. He’d been promoted young, although it hadn’t been entirely without merit.

Or sacrifice, Kylo reminded himself, thinking of the massive mottled scarring that spattered the left side of Hux’s chest and the burns that covered his forearms. He’d seen the memory in Hux's head. Hit with shrapnel and burned in an explosion following a failed airstrike. The bastard had been wounded in combat and captured at 26, and once he'd been recovered they pulled him from the front lines and put him full-time on engineering command for Starkiller. Less than a decade later and he’d risen to General.

And then he’d lost it all. His base, much of his command, and his memories.

Kylo shivered and wondered what it might be like. From what he could feel of Hux’s mind on a daily basis, it was slowly repairing itself, regaining the proper shape, although the carefully organized files it had contained were now empty in many places. Hux was a cask of carefully suppressed emotions, a well of enthusiasm and potential every time he got his hands on something mechanical, but also a man who feared the truth of who he was, even though he desperately wanted to know.

With that Kylo turned his thoughts inward, examining his own state. He was afraid, yes, of Snoke and the Order and the Resistance. They would be the most wanted men in the galaxy, and he had to be ready for it. The Knights of Ren…they were a wild card, an independent order that served Snoke when it suited their purposes. Kylo was unsure if he ought to fear them or to reach out to them.

More than anything, he was ashamed. He’d wrapped himself in the guise of Ben Solo, and from the bounty hunting mission they’d taken on to the rickety old ship that reminded him of the _Falcon_ , it stung in ways he hated to acknowledge. Something about it was almost fun, the element of pretending to be someone he wasn’t. It was like his childhood, playing with the children of other politicians, pretending to be famous people they weren’t. He’d pretended to be his Uncle Luke often enough, in those days, playing the hero of the empire until someone else claimed he wasn’t cool enough to be the last of the Jedi.

Kylo had slipped into Ben’s skin with altogether too much ease, relishing the lack of a mask and the dingy cantinas they’d haunted since they’d started running. Hell, even seeing Elie again had him swinging in that space between the light and the dark.

He’d disguised Kylo Ren in the persona of Ben Solo, eerily similar to the image his father had worked to project, the suave scoundrel only slightly on the wrong side of the law, and it had worked. So far, no one had questioned it.

No one but Hux, that is.

The shame of it all burned through him. He’d avoided his responsibilities, the loyalties he ought to have had, in favor of Hux. He’d run from everything in order to save Hux…and himself, if he were completely honest.

He’d run to save himself.

Suddenly, some of his father’s decisions made more sense than they ever had.

* * *

They fell into a pattern. Kylo meditated and observed Hux’s progress, offering a hand when he was asked but otherwise staying out of his way. Hux spent his time on the ship and, to Kylo’s chagrin, the droid.

He thought back to the first moment he’d known it would be a nuisance. He’d been able to feel Hux’s agitation in the back of his head as he negotiated with Elie. Repair supplies were the first concern, whatever it was that was bothering Hux could wait.

It wasn’t until Hux bent down under the table, retrieved a pile of scraps, asked Elie what she wanted for them, and shoved them on the table that Kylo had started paying attention.

Kylo had probed his thoughts, feeling the disparity between Hux’s outward expression and his internal thoughts, almost frantic.

_I need this droid. I’m not leaving without it, I have to have it. This droid is my droid, it’s supposed to be mine. Ben don’t you dare get in my way, I’ll steal it if I have to. It shouldn’t be here, it isn’t supposed to be rusting out here, it’s a thing, it’s supposed to be a complete thing. I’m supposed to have it._

Now, it seemed, there was little to be done about it all. Hux was embroiled in another project, trying to fix the sorry little thing up. He worked on it during the nights, when he was tired of trying to install the replacement converter. It was like a pet project, and for the most part, it kept him busy.

There were, of course, still points when Hux brought up nerve-wracking topics. The loss of his memories hadn’t taken the rest of his mind, and he was still painfully sharp at times. Kylo knew he wouldn’t be able to keep him in the dark indefinitely if Hux actively wanted to know who he was, and that posed a new problem: how to keep Hux from finding out his identity on his own.

One evening as they sat in the lounge, Hux made noises at the droid, sometimes simply humming something that might have been a tune, sometimes making clicks with his tongue and whistles that sounded suspiciously like droidspeak. Kylo frowned. They couldn’t _actually_ be droidspeak. Why would Hux know it? Kylo gradually started to wonder if Hux was finally snapping, if the bits of his mind that were left had finally cracked under the strain.

There was no mistaking the sluggish agitation that rolled off of Hux as he finally finished disassembling the sorry thing, the process of taking apart all of its casements and carefully cleaning out its components that had taken a couple days already. Finally finished with that first step, he started to strip the corroded parts down, one by one, scraping away the rust and grime until he was left with a surface he could eventually strip the paint from entirely. Smaller parts were cleaned, buffed, and shined.

Kylo felt about in his surface thoughts, glancing at his plans. Once he’d finished with the casement, he would move on to the internal mechanism, removing, cleaning, and replacing the droid, piece by piece. It was smooth and methodical, but most importantly it kept him distracted from the fear and agitation.

With a start, Kylo retreated, but it was too late. Hux stilled, his thoughts back on a dangerous path.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?” he braced himself for the worst of it.

“You knew me before…all of this.”

“Yes.” Kylo made the statement flat, not leaving much room to continue the line of questioning.

“What was I like?” Hux continued anyway.

He considered it. “You were…severe. Controlling. To be honest, you were a dick.”

“Why did you help me, then?” As innocent as the question seemed, he had the crawling feeling that Hux would analyze every side of his response.

“Because you were a lot of other things too. Determined. Loyal. Irritatingly persistent sometimes.” Kylo took a deep breath. “And because you didn’t deserve what would have happened otherwise.”

“No other reason?”

There was a moment where he could’ve stopped himself. He could have kept himself from saying it, but somehow, it slipped. “Because I cared about you.”

Saying it was like a weight off his chest, even though it brought an entire series of other concerns with it. There wasn’t much of a response on Hux’s part, just a small, “Ah,” that could’ve meant anything.

It was a relief that Hux dropped the subject for the rest of the evening, talking mildly about the parts he’d need to repair the droid when Kylo tried to redirect the conversation and skimmed his mind. For Hux, the world had narrowed down to the dysfunctional little pile of scrap. Everything else could wait, everything that was simply too big to handle at that moment.

He got a response out of the droid, a woozy little _woOOooo_ sound, and his face lit up.

* * *

The next day, Hux finished with the converter. He came out to find Kylo meditating in the scratchy grass under the _Revenge_ in little more than a pair of loose pants.

He cleared his throat, although Kylo already knew he was there. “So…I finished the converter. Want to test it out?”

Kylo cracked an eye in his direction. “What do you think about it?”

There was a moment, and then Hux frowned. “The converter? It ought to work. My work on it? Perfectly fine. Whoever I used to be knew this stuff inside and out.” Hux leaned against one of the landing gear legs. “Whether you want to give it a try? I have no idea, which is why I asked.”

“Of course I do.”

* * *

The _Revenge_ practically purred to life in comparison to how she’d been running. Kylo could feel Hux was pleased with the progress, and that feeling increased over the course of the next couple days as he completed a few less time-consuming repairs.

One of the evenings as Hux worked on the droid, still speaking to it in the ever-obnoxious clicks and whistles that Kylo had quickly come to find more annoying than Ewok, the droid finally hummed to life, chirping and clicking at Hux slowly, then speeding up to something much more enthusiastic. Hux grinned and laughed a bit before replacing its casement. He still hadn’t stripped the paint off, and there were layers of chipped purple and green clinging to it, but he’d scrubbed most of the rust away with steel wool.

The droid waved its single intact leg woozily at him before whistling and clicking for a couple minutes straight. Hux’s smile slowly grew as it went on, finally turning to Kylo with a grin like his face would split in half. “It says its name is KL-23, and it doesn’t much appreciate being naked.”

“Naked?” Kylo stared. “It’s a droid, there’s no such thing. Could you maybe tell it to tone it down? The whistling is giving me a headache.”

Hux turned to the droid, whose eye lens had telescoped about an inch to focus on Kylo before returning to its usual position. It beeped indignantly, and Hux snorted. “It says ‘no thank you’.”

“Is that...in its protocol?”

Hux shrugged. “Apparently.”

* * *

With the _Revenge_ up and running again, they followed Elie’s suggestions and managed to trace Maarris Ekher to another small planet. Three weeks had passed in a blur after they’d gotten the offer from Elie, and the press of the deadline was slowly wearing on them. Hux seemed to stay positive enough, but Kylo could feel the ever-present press of time, the knowledge that they were being hunted and there was no way to determine when someone could get the drop on them.

Kylo’s hypervigilance hadn’t had any effect yet, and it was like the slow wash of a changing tide on a shoreline. He felt as though he was being slowly worn away as his strength seemed to dwindle. The only thing that seemed to keep him afloat was the fact that they’d nearly cornered their target. He only had to hold out a couple more days, and then maybe he could get some rest.

* * *

The bird felt a prickle in its head. If it had been more self-aware, it might have noted that its thoughts were not entirely its own as it wheeled above the low-lying flurry of dust, surveying the narrow dusty trail that wound across the land below.

Two riders moved down the road at a moderate pace for their varactyl mounts. The beasts, scaled monstrosities saddled with rented travelling gear, moved smoothly along the trail, feathered crests bobbing gently as they ran. Their riders swayed atop them, one straight backed and smooth, the other slumped a bit, head hung low.

They were covered nearly head to toe in traveling clothes made of a variety of scraps, browns, blacks, nothing left to suggest they were anything more than vagrants. The bird wheeled around, checking the trail for followers, but there was no sign of anyone. The itch in the back of its mind disappeared and it wheeled westward, hunting for a meal.

Kylo and Hux traveled with the knowledge that the roads were treacherous at this time of year, especially in moderate dust storms such as the one they were experiencing. In fact, the worst of the storm had let up earlier in the day, allowing them to leave the ramshackle dwelling they’d found in time to take shelter and in which they had spent the night. Now, the painfully arid wind tossed particulates through the air, almost gentle in comparison to the night before. It was just enough to be miserable, forcing them to wear protective masks and goggles, but not enough to justify a stop in their journey.

Stopping under a rocky overhang, they stripped masks away in order to take drinks from the canteens at their sides. Their varactyl drank the water they were offered, chirping happily.

“How far to the _Revenge_?” Hux asked, his voice tight.

Kylo looked up, then pulled his sleeve back far enough to expose the nav-bar strapped to his wrist. “A couple clicks, assuming the weather doesn’t get worse.”

They ate in silence, wanting nothing more than to return to the ship before the storm worsened. Before long, they saddled up again and continued down the trail, following it down into a wide plain staggered with ancient stone pillars. 

On closer inspection, it was possible to see that the pillars were actually the remains of a petrified forest. Many of the stone trees had been downed, whether by time or erosion or sentient interaction, and lay in chunks on the ground.

They’d grown familiar with the strange, empty plain in the few weeks they’d been there. Inhabitants of the planet saw little potential in the arid land, but it provided a remote location they could leave the _Naberrie’s Revenge_ without inconvenient questions. To the east there was a smattering of living plants and sparse wildlife that could survive. Areas that had been covered in blueberries and wild brush had long been dried out and left to the cankerweeds and brambles that could survive in the arid environment.

Still, the land was beautiful, in the way a polluted sunrise was beautiful. Oranges spread to the horizon, broken by the silhouetted remains of petrified trees, some of them still standing like eternal sentinels to the badlands.

It was almost a shame they’d have to leave it in a few days. If they caught Ekher, it would have been time well spent. If not, well, they’d have to find different means to pay their way forward.

* * *

The remainder of the day passed, occasional words shared between them but barely loud enough to be heard through the unending wind that moved across the badlands with nothing to stop it. Even the few words they might have spoken were whipped away until the sun set, when the wind dropped unexpectedly still.

As they rode from the west, the ship was barely visible in the glare of the sun as it sank low on the horizon. As the sun set, they left the well-worn path to take a smaller path, nothing more than a slightly worn streak between the stone columns. The varactyl followed it, having taken it before, and moved with their own form of certainty. Their claws retracted, pulled back toward the heavier treads of their feet, and they moved with little more than a quiet scrape of the scales on their tails on the ground.

They set up camp under in a clear lee near the _Revenge_. It was one of the best protected spaces in the near badlands, and an ideal place to tuck the _Revenge_ away from prying eyes. Camp was set quickly and efficiently, and within the hour they sat down to food.

Hux built the fire as Kylo unpacked the saddlebags and dug rations out. The soup was simple, nothing much more than broth and some rehydrated meat and vegetables, but it was exponentially better than the First Order field rations had ever been. Kylo remembered the plain protein blocks and greyish mash with a carefully hidden shudder, grateful Hux couldn’t remember them.

The soup was simple, but enough to see them through the next day. Out in the badlands, there wasn’t much more a man could ask than sustenance and cover, plain and simple. As they sat down to eat, dust hoods came off and they were no longer near anonymous figures wandering the wastes. They became people in their own rights, and their faces showed their time on the road more than their garb ever had.

Kylo appreciated the way Hux’s face had changed since their escape. Sure, it worried him, but there was something about Hux in this light that made everything seem less awful. The shock of orange hair was brighter than ever in the firelight, and the faint spray of freckles had gotten somewhat darker once they’d been exposed to UV rays planetside. He’d let the scruff on his jaw grow, and although it did little to hide the borderline gaunt set of his cheekbones, it made him look grounded, not the untouchable chill of perfection that Hux had carried about him as General. He’d never quite lost that well-worn sort of leanness that came from skin stretched over tendons and bone.

The relaxed expression Kylo had seen from him on occasion during their days on Oon Tien had been replaced by constant tension, and it was clear he was feeling the strain as well. The tension that sat on his shoulders reminded Kylo altogether too much of their days on the _Finalizer_ and Starkiller.

Hux curled up against his varactyl’s side and sighed. “It’s too damn hot to sleep on the _Revenge_ tonight, I’m sleeping out here.”

“’s fine. I’m going to go check the fuel cells and clean up a bit.” The moment Kylo opened the door, KL-23 came skittering out, flying down the gangway and running off to find Hux. Kylo glared after the annoying little thing.

The _Revenge_ was starting to feel more like home than the _Finalizer_ ever had. The ‘fresher was small but functional, and once he’d washed his face Kylo stared at the man he’d become over the past weeks.

There was altogether too much of his father in his face, the angles changed by the slight offset of his nose, once broken and never properly set. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the traits that were entirely his own. The faint scar, a reminder from the scavenger, had been worrying and inconvenient in those first few days up until he realized the First Order had been unable to issue a proper description of him. The medics hadn’t had the chance to register his injuries as they’d travelled to Moraband, and no one but Hux had seen him without a helmet after his return.

Well. People had, but other than the Lieutenant in the launch bay, nobody knew who it was. Probably.

The thought of Moraband, of Snoke, sent a shudder up his spine. She was still out there, waiting for him. It had almost been a relief to run away with Hux in tow. He’d told himself it was to protect Hux. Of course it was to protect him. He still wouldn’t admit to anyone that it was to protect himself.

Some of the muscle had disappeared, melting away in those first few desperate weeks on Moraband and never quite coming back. His age finally showed in his face, the events of the past few weeks starting to take their toll. The shadows under his eyes had grown somewhat purple, even with the gradual tan he’d taken on.

Otherwise, though, little had changed. His hair was dark, his skin flecked with spots, his eyes plain brown. He’d never had much of a romantic perspective on his own appearance, and leaving the Order hadn’t changed that.

Back outside, Hux had unrolled his sleeping bag for the night and settled up against the side of his veractyl, although he scrolled through text on a datapad and refused to look up when Kylo reappeared. He could feel the tension in the air, and in hopes of helping it dissipate he took a lap around the camp, reaching out into the darkness and feeling for anything indicative of danger.

Returning, he found the redhead still awake, datapad abandoned on the ground next to him as he stared at the fire. KL-23 had curled up next to him, retracting its legs and turning itself into a round lump, its accessory motor humming pleasantly. “You should get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

“I can sleep when I’m dead.”

“Look, if this is about yesterday…”

“Of course it’s about yesterday.” Hux’s voice was cold and put him in mind of the old Hux. “You nearly got us killed.”

This again. Kylo shrugged it off. “But I didn’t.”

“You got R’iwen killed.”

They’d spent the week waiting out in Valparidisa, having spoken to a number of locals and found that Ekher lived somewhere up in the hills outside of town but usually came down once a week to trade with some of the shadier merchants. The head of local law enforcement, Nakro Warden, had been adamant. “You boys get him out of here, you can take him. Hell, there was a reward out for him but we couldn’t keep it, too many people around here in his pay, and I don’t have the manpower to go root him out. We can’t even take him out when he comes to town.” She’d grimaced. “He’s a local dealer for torthas, but he’s a good-for-nothing piece of bantha droppings that’s dragged our little town through the dirt for money. We got kids that ain’t going anywhere now, they’re too jumped up on torthas. And that’s if they ain’t dead yet.”

Their informant, a man by the name of R’iwen, had gotten in the middle of an altercation, and it hadn’t ended well. Kylo shook his head at Hux. “He’s dead. A casualty that couldn’t be avoided.”

“You don’t feel anything.” Hux snapped, his voice angry, fraying around the edges and betraying the guilt he felt finally bubbling up. “You said you would take the blame for his death, but you don’t feel anything.”

Kylo took a deep breath and stared into the fire, as though unsure how to address the problem. “That’s not true. I feel his loss, same as you.” _Worse, in fact._ He’d felt the man’s life go out like a candle. He looked out into the dark away from the fire, brooding in the shadows until he found a way to reduce the impact of his words. “It’s just that I’ve seen a lot more death than you, up close and personal. And losing one more person…eventually, the impact seems like less. It’s just as much, but there’s so much pain and loss you’ve already got built up, it’s barely a drop in the ocean.”

Hux hesitated, then shook his head. “How could you possibly go numb to death like that?”

_How could you how could you how could you_

Kylo stared at him, his expression tight. It was just like Hux to get straight to the heart of what he said, no fluff, no concern for the emotional impact of his words. Kylo stood quickly and walked away to take another lap around the camp, leaving Hux sitting in the flickering light, able to hear the faint sound of Kylo’s boots crushing gravel as he paced around the campsite. When he finally returned, temper cooled, he found Hux staring at the tiny fire, burned down to embers. KL-23 had moved into his lap, its legs gently kneading Hux’s stomach as if to soothe him.

“I’m sorry.” He looked up at Kylo, who could feel the outline of Hux’s thoughts. _Ben’s seen death firsthand. How many men has he killed?_ The errant thought sent an inadvertent shiver down Kylo’s spine. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Kylo was silent for a long time, trying to decide how to respond before he cleared his throat. “I’ve just…lost a lot. So I’m used to it.”

Hux looked at his hands in the dying firelight, eerily reflective. “Was I?”

“Were you what?”

“Was I used to death?”

Kylo stared, disarmed by the man that had given the order to blow up an entire system, the Starkiller himself, who looked up at him with eyes that were offended by a single innocent death. He finally gave a curt nod. “Yeah. You were.”

Hux paled in the firelight. “Is that why won’t you tell me who I was?”

The memories of the shattered mess of Hux’s mind left Kylo’s stomach roiling. Hux's face creased and he frowned, making him look older than he normally did. “That’s part of it. Maybe someday. For now, I’m doing it for your safety.”

A feeling of tension settled between them. Kylo could feel how it wore on them both, the strung between them like steel wire. Instead of pursuing the issue, Hux let it go, trying to loosen the tension. “We’re going to continue this conversation someday.”

Yet again, there was a pause, but this one was long and uncomfortable. “Right.” Kylo sighed, then looked out at the wastes again. When that didn’t get the response he seemed to want, he turned to Hux. “That was your cue to go sleep,” he followed with a chuckle he meant to be lighthearted, but it came across as pained. “I’ll take first watch.”

“Oh.” There was a short silence. “‘Night Ben.”

That name again. Ben. Right. He was Ben now. He nodded faintly. “We’ll hit the road fairly early to see if we can pick up the foot of the real trail before heading into town again.”

* * *

The next morning, Hux and KL-23 whistled back and forth at each other at a near deafening speed over breakfast on the ship. Occasionally, Hux would glance at Kylo and try to suppress a laugh.

Eventually, Kylo’d had enough and fixed him with a glare. “You’re talking about me behind my back with the droid.”

“Yeah, so?”

He made a face. “…come on, that’s rude.”

Hux shrugged and made a flurry of beeping sounds and whistles. The droid burst into a responding series of indignant beeps and Hux stopped dead.

There were few things that Kylo had ever seen that were stranger than watching Hux dissolve into a loose-bodied pool of laughter. His hand on the table slipped off and he fell over as he lost his support, tumbling to the ground in a heap of awkward limbs. His breath barely made it past his lips as he wheezed, unable to breathe as his body crunched up by compulsion of laughter.

Kylo rolled his eyes. That droid was an obnoxious little shit.

* * *

Hux’s mood darkened later in the day when their hunt proved unsuccessful and they headed into town, hoping for a lead. Nakro Warden had said Ekher came into town at least once a week. With a bit of luck, they could still catch him.

They’d spent days trying to find the trail up into the hills in order to go after him out of the public eye, but with no luck. They hung out at the local watering hole, talking with townies over steaming cups of caf that began to work miracles on Hux’s foul mood. They’d been there nearly two hours when Warden slammed the door open and trained her eyes on the two of them at the counter.

“You need to go. Ekher is coming and...”

Kylo swore under his breath. Of all the places to get caught, this wasn’t ideal. He’d been hoping to temporarily ditch Hux and take Ekher down out of sight, depending on the Force as his primary weapon. Here, Hux was almost guaranteed to see him use it, as were the townspeople. He could always wipe the townspeople, but he feared Hux's mind was still too fragile to risk wiping.

“Move.” Ekher opened the door behind the sheriff and shoved her aside. “This is between me and these two.”

Warden's eyes flashed angrily but she stepped back. Very quickly it seemed an uncomfortable number of blasters had been pulled from holsters, and Kylo struggled to tell friend from foe. Everyone out here in the Outer Rim carried a damn weapon.

There was a moment of tension, where nobody seemed to know what would happen next. Ekher waved his hand, and a number of the weapons lowered. “Relax. I’m just here for business. Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”

He sat down next to Hux and waved to the bartender, who worked on putting a drink together without question, clearly familiar with Ekher’s usual. Hux glanced at Kylo, who nodded to him. “We’re here to collect payment for Elie Varen.”

Kylo shivered. Hux had found his voice again, the General's voice that had commanded systems ripped to pieces. It wasn’t the sort of voice you questioned, and Ekher seemed somewhat surprised by that.

He plucked his drink from the bartender’s hand before he could put it down on the counter. “Well, I don’t think I’m going to pay her.”

“And if that’s the case, we’re going to be bringing you back to her. She’d like to collect in any way possible.”

Ekher laughed. “My sorry hide is worth less to a slaver than what I owe her. She needs me alive.”

Hux’s expression was uncompromising. “Unfortunately, your debt has gone on long enough that she doesn’t care. We’re to collect as much as possible, and if you’re collateral, she’s not particularly concerned.”

Ekher finally looked mildly worried that they hadn’t backed down yet. “Ah.” He took a large swig of his drink and grimaced. “Well boys, I still don’t think I’ll be paying her, and I won't be going with you, alive or dead.”

With a motion that surprised even Kylo, Hux stood, turning toward the door. “Right. Well, it’s clear we’re not welcome here.” He made a show of finishing the last swig of caf in his mug and turning to leave. Then Hux hesitated several feet from the door. “Then again…you’ve done a fair job of bleeding this community dry. I’m sure they’d be happy to be rid of you.”

Kylo felt the shift in the air. People were listening. The locals here knew, even better than they did, the impact Ekher's dealings had had on the community. Even if he’d paid some of them off, he couldn’t buy everyone and money only fixed so much. Too many of them had lost kids or other family members to the trade, and if Hux played this right, there was a chance they might be able to swing this job.

“Think about all the people around here dead because of you. Good people. Avin De’terrin...Kella De’terrin was only five years old. Iro Selankar. Musee Sitch. All three of the Jerrgin boys ...” Hux spoke, and Kylo simply sat quietly and listened. He named off people in the community, apparently dead or injured because of the trade, pulling on his audience’s heartstrings. It was clear that he’d picked up more than Kylo had given him credit for in their short time in town. He skimmed the surface of Hux’s mind and found that Hux had filed all the information carefully away, and now it was little more than pulling the proper files and expressions from his mental database.

It was incredible, the way Hux could manipulate a crowd. The shift wasn’t only emotional this time. Kylo could feel a number of the weapons turn toward Ekher. Not all, though. There were still a few that were loyal to him, and Kylo mentally pinpointed them, ready to take them down at a moment’s notice.

Ekher seemed to sense it as well. The blood drained from his face. “You think you’re gonna turn this town against me?”

Hux shrugged. “You turned them against yourself.”

His eyes flicked around the bar and he shook his head. “You boys are…”

“All you have to do is pay Elie off and we’ll be on our way.” For a moment, it seemed like Ekher was considering the deal. Then everything went mad as he sprinted, throwing the door wide and making for the speeder port down the dusty street.

Kylo sprung into action, forcing the few remaining supporters to drop their weapons. The bar itself descended into chaos.

Warden followed Ekher out, hot on his heels, Hux just behind her. When it became clear he was faster than her, she unslung her rifle from her shoulder, thumbed the bolt to STUN, and took two shots at his receding figure, missing both but only just.

“Shit!” she snapped, only to find the rifle carefully lifted from her hands. She looked up to find Hux, who slipped into a bladed-off stance like he’d done it a thousand times, lined up a shot, and fired.

Inside the bar, Kylo felt a ripple of the Force. That feeling came again, more like a small shock wave than a ripple, and he knew his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. There was another Force user near.

He spun, searching madly. With Hux outside, he was terrified another Force user might split them up or hurt Hux. Kylo shoved everyone in the bar to the floor with a push from the Force and reached out for the source. He panicked momentarily, frantically trying to find the source and then… 

_No. No, that can’t be right._

The last of the waves were faint, like scattered ripples in a pond after throwing a stone. Even so, Kylo focused in on the source and found Hux standing in the epicenter of it all. Amid all the chaos and destruction, the realization hit Kylo.

 _No. I am not prepared to deal with this._ He released his hold on the patrons of the bar and they slumped in varying states of confusion. Hux was still outside with Warden. Kylo sat back down at the bar and tried to take it all in. _Force sensitive? How could I have missed that?_

When the bartender slid warily over to him, he ordered a Triple Soleil and hoped. Maybe he was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should all go check out [this amazing picture of KL-23](http://versus-verses.tumblr.com/post/143999754134/huge-thanks-to-bachure-for-putting-together-a) done by [bachure](http://bachure.tumblr.com/) for this fic
> 
> My smol droid child is freaking adorable. I love it so much.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta betweenheroesandvillains for putting up with my stupidity yet again.
> 
> Questions and comments always welcome!


	5. Synthesis

There had been a moment of uncertainty, but as soon as Genesis had taken the weapon from Warden’s hands, it had only been natural. Set, stance, line up the shot, fire.

Still, he’d almost been surprised when Ekher had dropped, out cold in the middle of the street. Warden turned to him with an amused grin. “Well then. Looks like he’s all yours.”

With no apparent sign of Ben, he walked down the street with her and cuffed Ekher, dragging him back to the porch of the bar. He dumped him on the ground and watched a droid roll past. It glanced his direction and casually beeped out a hello, which he returned in droidspeak.

The droid stopped dead, swiveling back to look at him in an imitation of shock, chirping rapidly. [KL-23 said its Mender knows droidspeak. KL-23 is correct.]

[I know droidspeak. What is your designation?]

[JR-488] It rattled happily. [Others will be interested in you.]

It rolled away excitedly, disappearing into an alley. Genesis walked inside and glanced around, finally finding Ben nursing something that smelled near-toxic at the bar.

“Got him. You ready to go?”

Ben looked at him, dark eyes emotional but unreadable. “I’m going to sit here and enjoy this drink. I think I’ve earned it.”

Genesis snorted. “I’m the one that took him down.”

“You are.” Ben stared at him as though he could peel his skin back and read him like a book. Eventually he shook his head and took another swig. “Mind telling me how you did that?”

He shrugged. “It felt natural. The shot felt...like I’d done it before.”

Ben mumbled something under his breath. “Right. Alright. You’re good with guns, fine. We need to get you properly armed.”

Frowning, Genesis shook his head. “I’m not looking to kill anyone.”

Ben inhaled his drink instead of sipping it, coming away coughing and laughing as though something was absolutely hilarious, something other than his drink going down the wrong pipe. When he’d finally caught his breath, he said, “Then we’ll make sure your blaster has a ‘stun’ setting.”

Genesis nodded and turned back, feeling irked. “I’ll be outside. Catch up with me once you’re finished.”

* * *

Outside there was a small cluster of droids that had appeared. Warden looked at the pack with mild amusement, then at Genesis. “These yours?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen them before…”

Excited beeping from the back of the group started up, and he recognized JR-488. He looked around at the cluster and realized it had brought its friends along to meet the weird human that knew droidspeak.

“Oh. I take it back, I just met that one a couple minutes ago,” he said helplessly.

* * *

By the time Ben came outside, squinting in the bright sunlight, there was a small group of droids crowded around him, beeping and chirping animatedly. Ben stopped dead in his tracks, staring, then shook his head. “You’re turning into some kind of weird droid-whisperer.”

Genesis looked around at the group conspiratorially and whistled. To Ben’s clear dismay, they burst into beeps and whistles, something that seemed suspiciously like laughter. “What did you say to them?”

“That you’re only pretending to be irritated. Besides, we’ve got Ekher. You can’t actually be mad.”

Ben sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned to Warden. “Thank you for your help.”

“No, thank you for yours! Take him, we’d much rather be rid of him.”

Ben looked at Ekher on the ground, finally starting to come around as the stunner wore off. He gave him a solid jab of his boot to speed up the process and leaned down. “Oh good. You’re up. We’ve got a friend who has business with you.”

Warden gave them a wry smile. “Do as you please with him, just don’t bring him back.”

Genesis nodded to her and bid the droids a goodbye, following as Ben headed for the ship, Ekher slung over his shoulder. He turned back to throw Warden an informal salute, which she grinned at, clearly amused. “So long, and thanks again!”

* * *

Back on the _Revenge_ , they cuffed Ekher in the cargo hold and came back to the central lounge. Ben smiled briefly and said,“Let’s eat and then we can make for Elie’s.”

They ate in silence, appreciating the sudden release of tension that had been associated with Elie’s deadline. Something was bothering Ben, he could feel it. It was clear Ben didn’t want to talk, so he let it go.

Once they were en route, Genesis went to go clean up. The ‘fresher provided relief, washing sweat-caked dust from his skin. He stretched, welcoming the warmth on his back as he reached upward, feeling the now-familiar twinge of scar tissue pulling on his left side. He prodded at his ribs, briefly observing the mess. It was mottled, disgustingly so, in an injury that could only have seen bacta after partially healing, or maybe it’d never seen bacta at all. There was another narrow scar, a handspan long but cleaner and surgical, that ran down the side of his torso, and the waxy-looking scars that covered his forearms, elbow to wrist. 

He wondered again where he’d gotten them before his thoughts turned to the scar that crossed Ben’s face and shoulder. It had clearly been seen to by medics, but it was still noticeable. Not to mention the rest of the scars that spotted his skin, marks that Genesis had noticed time and time again when Ben sat around meditating.

Where had they come from? Did it have anything to do with who they were running from? And why were some of them treated, while others weren’t? Questions. Too many questions. The warmth of the ‘fresher was pleasant, making him drowsy long before he climbed out and dressed in preparation for sleep. He checked on Ben, who was knotting ropes in his hands over and over again as he sat in the pilot’s seat.

“Anything else need done before I sleep?”

Ben looked up from the rope, his expression unreadable. “Nah, you’re fine. Get some rest.”

* * *

_There was a man swimming in an endless pool, old and portly but still somewhat strong. A shadow fell on the tile on the bottom of the pool, someone standing outside of the water. He slowed, pulling himself out of the current and thumbing the control panel. He flipped his goggles back and found himself faced with not one, but two people._

_Genesis couldn't remember the man, but he felt he distantly recognized him. The other two people, he’d never seen before. The first was bundled almost entirely in dark clothes, possibly male, but not entirely human, with what was visible of his face rippling around empty eye sockets. The second was a small, unassuming older woman with salt and pepper hair._

_“Hello, who are you?”_

_The male humanoid spoke, his voice low and scratchy. “We are messengers, with a missive for you from the Supreme Leader.”_

_The man looked surprised and frowned. He pulled himself from the pool with an audible number of clicking joints and grabbed a towel that had been waiting on the nearby table. “Yes?”_

_“Snoke wants to know where your son is.”_

_The man paused as he toweled down his hair. “Excuse me?”_

_“I will say it again. Snoke wants to know where your son is.”_

_“He’s been stationed on the Finalizer since…”_

_“Where is he now?”_

_The man shook his head, confused. “He should still be on the Finalizer.”_

_The second person, the woman, shook her head. “We are wasting time.” She approached the older man, who was far taller than her but stooped with a wave of her hand. She pressed her palm to his head and the man screamed, falling to one knee._

_Genesis wanted to reach out and help him, to somehow stop the messengers, but he found himself frozen, nothing but a watcher._

_She eventually released him, letting him drop to the tiled deck. “The General hasn’t made contact. He knows nothing.”_

_“He fled?” The older man’s voice was quiet and cracked as he struggled to regain his feet._

_The woman looked furious. “Yes. He abandoned his post.”_

_The old man, for one moment, looked equally furious. Then a light seemed to flare in his eyes, and a bitter laugh pushed its way out. “Snoke thought he could control him.”_

_The humanoid hauled off and slapped him across the face. “It ought to have been easy enough, what with how quickly you bent the knee.”_

_“Snoke should’ve known from Nemira, he had to promise to restore her family’s prestige. Besides, the boy was never easy to control. He never liked me, and I can’t blame him. But if he didn’t like me, he must have hated bending to the Supreme Leader."_

_The woman snarled, her face no longer motherly, but vicious. “If you have no information, you serve no purpose, retired and useless as you are.”_

_“Do it, then. I’ve been dead since your master had Nemira killed anyway.”_

_He was dead before he hit the tile, blood seeping along the grout from the gash the humanoid had torn through his neck._

Genesis woke, his face damp, and couldn’t understand why. KL-23 had curled up on the end of his cot, pulling its legs into the casement. As he woke, the droid blinked to life, whirring nervously.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright. It’s alright, please, don’t wake Ben up,” he whispered. The droid took his words at face value and quieted, and for once he was thankful it knew Basic. Of course, he’d realized it knew Basic very early on, but it was entertaining to annoy Ben by using droidspeak. Now, though, he wanted nothing more than to let the lump under the covers of the other cot sleep.

* * *

The morning came slowly, as he never quite got back to sleep. After laying there staring up at the bulkhead for a time, he climbed up to the sound of creaky springs and made his way to the lounge, only turning the lights up to five percent.

In the air, there wasn’t much work he felt he could do on the _Revenge_ , not without the parts they were set to get from Elie. Instead, he settled at the dejarik table and turned it to minimum volume, finding the strategy involved in the game easy enough to lose himself in.

Several hours later, his stomach started to grumble. When Ben appeared, looking sleep-addled, Genesis made for the galley to put some caf on. That, at least, he knew how to make.

He put a mug in front of Ben, who sat at the table and gave him an amused look before wrapping his hands around the mug to warm them. When it became clear Genesis wasn’t going anywhere, Ben blinked blearily up at him. “...what?”

“Want to teach me how to cook those eggs we bought?”

* * *

Eggs were easy, he found. Ben liked his fairly bland, with nothing but a bit of oil in the pan, but Genesis was caught up in the variety of spices Ben had bought at the market, each labeled in small bags or pouches. “Where’s the daisley?”

Ben tossed it to him from across the kitchen and Genesis found himself catching it without looking. He pinched and sprinkled a bit across his eggs, immensely satisfied by the deep earthy spice mixed with lighter, sharper notes that rose from the pan.

As he dug in, he found that there were few things as satisfying as eating a meal he’d made himself.

* * *

“So. Couple things we need to chat about.”

Genesis looked up from where he examined one of the maintenance manuals he’d found on the ship’s drive. “What’s up?”

“You know how to use a rifle.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you...remember where you learned?”

Genesis hesitated. “I don’t. I thought about it after you mentioned getting a blaster, and I’m not sure how I know, but I know. Same way I know machines.”

“Well, as I said, you can use a gun, we need to get you armed. I need you able to defend yourself.”

“What about you?”

“I could use a blaster, if needed. I can defend myself, but to be honest, it was stupid to go after Ekher relatively unarmed.” Ben stopped dead. “Ah, shit.”

“I fed him, it’s fine.”

Ben looked a bit relieved. “Oh, good. I mean, it’s probably more than he deserves, but…”

“Shut up, Ben.”

* * *

En route back to Elie’s, Ben kept doing things that felt strangely out of character for him. Genesis asked for a wrench and Ben threw it from the other side of the ship, very nearly nailing him in the back of the head. Genesis thanked his lucky stars he’d somehow had the foresight to move just before it went sailing past his ear, clattering on the bulkhead before hitting the floor.

“What the hell was that?”

“You asked for a wrench!”

“So you _threw_ it at me? Are you trying to kill me?”

Ben looked somewhat abashed. “Sorry.”

It continued that way, Ben moving things about the ship strangely, keeping him on his toes.

KL-23 quickly grew aggravated with his antics. When Ben would walk into the same room as Genesis, it would go to protect its Mender, shaking and nervous in the face of someone like who could just as easily have kicked it halfway across the room and put it out of commission. 

Overall, tensions were high but not exactly awful. Ekher proved to be painfully annoying, but not particularly dangerous once he was removed from his cronies. 

They landed the _Revenge_ outside of town. Ben checked Ekher’s cuffs and easily swung him up over his shoulder, to halfhearted protests through the gag. They got more than a couple amused looks walking through town, but nobody bothered stopping them, despite the fact that Ben carried a bound man slung over his shoulder.

When they got to the shop, they stopped in front of the sign taped to the front door. ‘Come in the Back’, it said, in a quick scrawl. Genesis glanced at the other neon sign, still emblazoned ‘Elie’s Parts’. Ben shook his head and said, “She doesn’t really go for subtle, does she?”

They went around to the back door of the warehouse, finding it open. A tiny figure in a fireproof jumpsuit and welding mask was clearly Elie, and Ben dumped Ekher unceremoniously on the floor. The torch flicked off and she looked at the motley group for a moment before pushing her mask up. “You actually managed to find him. Huh.”

Ekher, cuffed and gagged as he was on the ground, shrieked his anger through the rag they’d used to gag him. Elie looked down at him, her expression darker than any Genesis had seen from her. “Maarris Ekher. You piece of shit. It’s been awhile, yeah?”

He looked up at her and said something unintelligible through the gag. She sighed and shook her head. “Genesis, be a doll and untie that, would you?”

“Fuck you!” was the first thing out of his mouth once the gag was off. “I said I’d pay you back.”

Elie looked unimpressed. “But you didn’t.”

“I said I would, my word is as good as…”

“He wasn’t going to pay you back,” Ben said bluntly. Genesis snorted.

“Fuck you, too! The both of you.” Ekher snarled, his body twisting against the bindings.

“You know what? I take it back, put the gag back on him,” she said mildly. “I’ll deal with him later.” She took the heavier welding gear off as Genesis put the gag back on, muffling him against protestations. “So! I assume you boys want the parts still, yes?”

“That was our bargain.”

She nodded. “Good, good. That’s what I’d been counting on, but you never know. I’m just an old woman, trying to make her way in the world. Everyone wants to take advantage of…” Elie stopped at a skittering, tapping noise, looking down to find KL-23 sidling its way towards her feet nervously.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” she looked at KL-23. “Stars, you got it working. Well! That’s rather a surprise.” She squatted to peer at the droid. “You got a designation?”

“Kayell-two-three,” Genesis said, noting the way it dodged behind him, hiding behind his legs.

“Looks like it’s taken to you pretty well, even if it is a little scaredy-droid.” Elie looked on approvingly. “Now! Help me get your things together. You know, you’re lucky I managed to get my hands on the compressor so quickly. The Order’s been making life a right bitch for plenty of people. They call themselves a legitimate military empire, but really they’re nothing but a fringe group that had a really big gun. Just a bunch of Empire wannabes.” She walked toward the far side of the store, rolling her sleeves as she went. “And my contact on Malimbo has disappeared, so I had to order your alluvial dampers in from Scysa.”

Four stacks later, still thinking about what Elie said about the Order, Genesis realized that KL-23 had fallen surprisingly silent. He turned, only to find the droid missing. He stopped dead. “Kayell?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing important. It seems my droid’s run off.”

Elie snorted. “Eh, go find it. I’ll get Ben to help me with the stuff, you can meet us back up front.”

Genesis walked back the direction they’d come from, clicking quietly to try and coax it out of hiding. He finally found it standing in the middle of an aisle, stopped and transfixed by an entire array of glossy paint chips. He glanced down at it, fondly taking in the chipped purple and what was left of the peeling green paint. [See something you like?]

It whirred in response, drawing its legs in and getting much lower to the ground, as if ashamed. Then it beeped dejectedly. [Mender shouldn’t spend the money]

[You can pick out a color if you want. I’m sure Ben won’t mind.] He took in the rainbow array of colors. [Besides. I tagged Ekher. It’s partially my money.]

KL-23 perked up, looking back up at the colors, trying to take them all in at once.

He couldn’t help smiling a bit. [You can pick any color you like but you should know, you look fine as you are]

The droid wavered, then nudged a canister of orange, looking between Genesis and the cans. Then it stopped, vibrated excitedly, and tapped on a canister of blue so deep it was almost indigo. It stopped, seemed to panic, and looked back and forth at canisters of green and red.

The noise of distress it made was awful, a horrendous grinding of its actuators. Genesis laughed a bit, wondering if droids could understand embarrassment. [Do you want me to help you choose?]

It perked up and bounced back and forth between its footpads excitedly. 

[How about this? It’s bright and rich and it looks like it shines.]

The droid gave a shy whistle and bounced gently, rubbing up against his leg as he tucked the canister under his arm.

* * *

They headed to the front of the shop once they’d picked a color, KL-23 dancing about his legs excitedly, skittering from one side to the other like an overeager child.

Elie and Ben were chatting at the counter, talking about the parts and galactic affairs. She shook her head. “You know, that blockade of the Eraska Run kept me from getting the last couple things. I know they say it’s nothing but a military exercise, and it shouldn’t erupt into violence, but in the meantime, everyone and their brother is dealing with the consequences.” 

“We’ll add this to the order as well,” Genesis said, putting the canister on the counter. 

Elie glanced down and looked surprised. “You’re going to paint it?”

“Might as well.” He smiled and KL-23 chirped happily. “It said your colors are very pretty.”

“I can understand droid, smartass.” She laughed and looked down to address KL-23. “I’ll even discount it a little bit since you spent so long in the warehouse.”

As she tallied up costs and what they might owe her beyond the original agreement, she continued to chat. “You boys know where you’re headed next?”

Ben glanced at Genesis, then shook his head. “Not really.”

She seemed to think for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ve got another friend looking to have a debtor brought in. He’s actually the one I got your dampers from.” She packed the new output attachments for the jammer away in rolled paper. “I can send him your names and tell him you’ll swing by, if you’re interested in more work along the same line.”

The two of them shared a look, then Genesis turned to her with a grin. “That’d be great, actually. Thank you.”

She shrugged. “You brought Ekher in with hardly a scratch, I’d recommend you to almost anyone. Assuming they didn’t want you to go after anyone too dangerous.” She gave Ben an exasperated look. “Your mother would kill me if you got hurt working a job I’d recommended to you.”

“I’m an adult Elie, it’s fine.” Ben laughed uncomfortably. “Speaking of which, know anywhere that sells reliable weapons?”

* * *

The shop Elie recommended was planetside, a bit tricky to find, tucked away in an alley in one of Oon Tien’s larger cities. Inside, the shopkeeper lounged, idly drumming his fingers on the counter. Any number of weapons were housed behind transparasteel cases, from antique blasters to a single RPG-780, illegal on most New Republic planets.

The shopkeeper looked between the two of them suspiciously when they came in. “Can I help you?”

Ben looked up and swallowed, taking in the man. He was bulky, bald, and much of his visible skin was covered in wide, sweeping tattoos. “Ah. Not quite sure exactly what we need yet, so just looking for now.”

Genesis took a look at a number of weapons, asking the man question after question about their specs. Once he realized Genesis knew what he was talking about, he opened up, far more cheerful. Downstairs on the firing range, Ben sat on the stairs as Genesis tested the weapons he’d selected, nailing every shot.

Once he’d been impressed with Genesis’s skill, the owner was in a much better mood. Back upstairs, they made small talk as he rang up the purchases. “So, how did you find my place?”

“We were actually recommended by Elie Varen, out...”

His face lit up. “Oh Elie? How’s the old flirt doing?”

“What, you actually know her?”

“Oh yeah, the two of us go way back.” He smiled fondly. He sighed and added a small discount to the purchase, for good measure. “Almost can’t believe she’s still sending people my way after what happened.”

Ben cleared his throat. “I’m sorry?”

“I, ah, was rather an ass to her.” For someone of his size and build, he managed to look chastised like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “She cleaned my clock and told me to get lost. We’ve chatted a bit since then, but, ah…” He seemed to realize what he was saying. “Anyway, if you’re headed back in her direction, do me a favor and give her my regards?”

“Of course.” Genesis gave him a smile that might have bordered on ingratiating if he hadn’t seemed so sympathetic. “While I’m thinking about it, would you mind if I took a look at…”

* * *

They left the shop with a small arsenal, Genesis having tested each and every one of them on the owner’s indoor range. The blasters holstered at his thighs were simple and straightforward, but none of the weapons had felt quite as natural as the rifle slung across his back. It’d been almost familiar in his hands, an old friend. Perhaps not the same rifle he’d known how to use before, but it was a straightforward semi-automatic, not particularly elegant. It felt right, from the sights to the kickback, and he was more than happy with it.

His comfort with the weapons became eerily apparent within the next few days. When he was anxious or worried, he’d think through blaster shot patterns, without the weapon in hand, to help remind himself of the key stances.

Two cycles later, Genesis sat in the cockpit, cleaning one of the blasters for what felt like the hundredth time. They were on their way to Brolsam to see about the job Elie had recommended for them and he found himself awake in the middle of the night yet again, unsettled by a dream.

“You alright?” He turned to find Ben looming over the back of the copilot’s seat, looking concerned.

“Yeah.”

Ben frowned and instead of leaving, he planted himself in the copilot’s seat. “Something seems wrong. Tell me?”

“I just...it’s stupid. I had a nightmare, nothing of importance.”

“Tell me about it?”

He stood, placing a hand on Ben’s shoulder reassuringly. “Really, don’t worry about it, it was just a dream.”

Ben gave him an odd look, a deep, searching sort of expression. “Sometimes dreams are important.”

Genesis took a breath. “You want some tea? I’m going to make some.”

“Sure.”

When he returned with a pair of steaming mugs, Genesis found it easier to settle into the old pleather chair. “I keep having weird dreams. They don’t last long, but it’s never me participating in them. It’s like I’m frozen, unable to do anything about what’s happening.”

“More like visions than dreams?”

Visions. The word crawled up his spine and stuck in his throat. “Yeah.”

“Tell me about some of them?” Ben’s voice was mild, but something in his expression conveyed worry.

“I...there was one the other day. An older man in a pool. Two people that said they were messengers, and they killed him.”

“Do you remember anything about any of them? Or did you recognize them?”

“I felt like I ought to recognize the man they killed, but...nothing. The other two...a man with no eyes and…” he made a vague motion with his hand, “...strange skin. And an older woman.”

the blood seemed to drain out of Ben’s face and he sat up a bit straighter. “Do you remember anything else about them?”

Genesis shook his head. “I swear I knew the man they killed, but I didn’t.” He didn’t miss the small shiver that crossed Ben’s shoulders as he blew on his tea to cool it. “I saw him in a dream tonight as well, asleep in a military uniform.” He frowned. “To be honest, I’m not sure he was asleep. He might’ve been dead for all I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? They’re just dreams. Unsettling, but pointless.”

Ben looked as though he wanted to say something but changed his mind. Instead, he took a massive gulp of tea, choking when it burned him.

* * *

Another two days passed before Ben brought up another uncomfortable topic. “Hey, I’ve been wondering about your...skills as a marksman.”

“And?”

“I was wondering if you’d have any interest in taking an extra day on our way to Brolsam to stop somewhere and see how good you really are.”

Genesis crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What, you don’t think I’m good enough to defend myself?”

“Hah, of course I do. I’m just curious.” Ben hesitated and Genesis knew there was something he wasn’t telling him. Still, he reluctantly agreed.

That was how he found himself on some planetoid he’d never heard of, standing in the middle of a plain of purple-ish grass, aiming for a couple empty meal trays Ben had placed on tree branches on the far end of the field.

He took a breath and released it, letting himself focus on the targets as he sized them up. They were too far, of course. Ben probably had no idea just how far they were. Even a skilled marksman would be lucky to hit them.

He set his bladed-off stance, set up the shot, and fired. The first target blasted half off its corresponding branch, and Genesis blinked.

Luck. It had to be luck.

He set up another shot and fired, feeling the familiar kickback of the blaster in his hands. Shot after shot, he nailed the targets, something that the back of his mind said was entirely impossible. He saw it with his own two eyes, but the visual and what his brain said was possible failed to match up. He continued until the last target was gone, blown away or at least knocked off its branch. He lowered the blaster as faint soreness started to set in his shoulder, a bit of bruising from the kickback. He turned to look at Ben, whose eyes were wide.

“So. That good enough for you?”

Ben shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

“What? I suppose...bad news first?” Genesis flipped the safety.

“You’re Force sensitive,” Ben said grimly.

“I’m what now?”

He frowned. “It’s...some people think it’s like magic. Essentially, everything is connected to the bits and pieces of the universe, but you’re just...more connected.” He faltered in his explanation, then plowed on. “It sounds boring, but it’s unusual and it tends to give people different things, abilities, whatever you want to call them, if you learn to focus and channel your energy properly.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Genesis snorted and shook his head. “Besides, even if I were, how would you know when I don’t even know?”

“Because I’m Force sensitive and I felt it.” Ben shrugged. “That’s the good news. I can teach you to control it.”

“Control what?”

“The Force. I could teach you to...move things with your mind, or read people’s minds, or…” he trailed off, grinning madly. “The possibilities are really only limited by your own mental ability. You have the capacity to learn things most people can’t even dream of.”

Genesis stopped dead. “You mean you have those...abilities?”

The grin on Ben’s face widened. “Yeah.” 

“You can read minds?” the words were sharp, strained.

“I mean...yes?”

Ben couldn't have been prepared for the storm that followed.

* * *

When Genesis had finally stopped yelling and trying to punch him out, Ben went inside and slumped at the table, prodding at the tissue around his eye that was purpling from the one solid punch that had landed. “Was that really necessary?”

“Do you even understand how disgusting that is? Messing around in another person’s mind?” Genesis wanted to punch him again for good measure.

“Look, it happens, even the old Jedi Order did it all the time!”

Genesis had had enough. “That doesn’t justify it.” Before Ben could react, he marched away, retreating to the bunkroom and locking the door behind himself. 

He’d barely slid to the floor when a heavy fist banged on the door, and Ben’s voice sounded from the other side. “Did you seriously just lock yourself in there?” Silence. “I’m sorry, alright? People with the Force are just like that, boundaries aren’t as much of a thing!”

“Bullshit. I don’t care what magic powers or abilities or whatever the hell it is you have, it doesn’t excuse you from common human decency.”

“Then talk to me!” he changed tactics again and there was an exasperated sound from the other side. “So help me, I will break this door down.”

“Oh, right, threats.” Genesis snapped. “You can’t stay out of my head, why would I expect you to understand that a closed door means _stay out_?”

He could feel something on the other side of the door, as though Ben had sat down with his back to the door.

“Ben.”

“What?”

“Are you just going to sit out there?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was muffled by the durasteel between them, but it clearly cracked. “I’ve never been particularly good at planning. That was your thing.”

Inside the bunkroom it was dark, almost stifling. Genesis sat, curled against the wall beside the door. The silence wasn’t comforting, but it was better. It let him think.

He had some sort of weird powers. Ben had the same weird powers, and because of them, Ben had been in his head. 

Someone else had been in his head.

The thought made his stomach roil, and he felt disgusting. Filthy, like the inside of his own skull would never be clean. What parts of his own mind were entirely his own? Was he even under his own control? 

“Ben?”

There was a pause, and for a moment Genesis thought he had left. “Yeah?”

“Have you...used mind control or...whatever you call it...on me? To make me do something I didn’t want to?”

“It only works on the weak-minded.”

“Answer me.”

“No.” Silence. Weight seemed to settle on Genesis’s shoulders. “I’ve never used it to make you do something you didn’t want to.”

* * *

Deep breaths. Control and logical thought came back slowly, although it was a relief when he felt Ben stand and walk away from the other side of the door.

Fine. If Ben had these skills, he ought to be able to teach him, right? Perhaps there was a way to keep Ben out of his head.

He sat there for what felt like hours, deliberating on a course of action. Eventually, there was a small knock on the door. “What?”

“...I made you some hot caf. I can leave it here if you don’t want to see me.”

“No it’s…” he took a deep breath and touched the lock, letting the door slide open. “It’s not fine, but let’s…” he hated himself for the words, but he forced them out anyway. “We’re stuck here together so we need to try to talk this out like rational adults, because otherwise we’re completely screwed.”

Ben stood awkwardly at the door, holding a cup of caf. He eyed Genesis warily, eventually stepping forward to offer him the mug. “Alright.”

The caf felt like a half-assed peace offering, but it was better than Ben’s previous denial that there was anything wrong. “You said you could teach me.”

Ben nodded. “I can. It’ll be difficult, you’re pretty old to start, but I think it would be beneficial.”

“Can you teach me to keep people out of my head?”

Ben sat down on the cot across the bunkroom and considered it. “Probably? I mean, I’m not entirely sure. Really though, for the most part it’s not about actually being in people’s heads, it’s just a…” he made a vague motion with his hand and hesitated, “...surface reading.”

“You can’t keep people out of your head? Other Force sensitive people?”

Ben's expression slid into something like confusion. “No? Why would I?”

“Don’t you have any privacy? Your mind is...it’s the one part of you nobody else is supposed to be able to see.”

“It’s never been like that for me. When I...my mother was in my mind when I was very young, and my uncle. She said it was even before I was born. And then my teacher started speaking to me, in my head.” He shrugged.

“But...the mind is the most private place a person has.” Genesis spoke slowly. “You mean...you’ve never had that?”

Ben shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not…” Genesis couldn’t put it into words, the way his bile rose. That was abuse of some sort, it had to be. What kind, he had no idea, he’d never even considered the possibility of reading someone’s mind, but now that he did, it seemed that there ought to be some sort of moral code, lines that nobody crossed. “That’s incredibly not alright.”

The shrug Ben tossed him was almost painful. “That’s just how it’s always been.”

“What the hell, Ben?” His mind was putting things together so fast it was nearly blinding. “Just because someone has always been able to mess about in your head doesn’t mean it’s right!”

“What was I supposed to do about it?” Ben’s voice rose.

“Fight back!”

“Against who? My mother? My uncle? My teacher, the one person who cared about me when I was young?” His laugh was bitter.

The air seemed to press in on Genesis, as though this was a turning point of some sort. “Whoever you have to!”

He could feel Ben’s anger rolling off of him like a pulse as he glared, “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me.” He stared Ben down, unflinching. “Tell me what I’m asking.”

“They’ve always been there. I don’t know exactly how it all works, I reach out for things and I get them. It’s the same when they do it to me, I think…” Ben trailed off, genuinely uncertain for the first time.

“So stop reaching out for other people’s minds. Shut it down.”

“Look, I can’t shut it down! I’ve never...I don’t know how!” Ben seemed genuinely shaken. “It’s just...looking. I don’t change things unless...unless I have to.”

He trailed off in a whisper and Genesis _knew_. 

He knew the answer before he asked.

“Did you change things in my...did you do this to me?” It felt like the world had dropped out from under him. His memories, gone, because of Ben messing about in his head. “What the _fuck_?”

Ben looked utterly wretched. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen, I was trying to keep you alive and…”

The warmth of the caf did nothing to lessen the chill of horror that ran down his spine. He slammed the mug down on the floor, mindless to the splatter of near-burning caf as he climbed to his feet, ready to destroy something. “Here I am, I thought I could trust you, and it turns out _you’re the one that did this to me!?!_ ”

“I did it because you begged me to!” Ben shook his head, waving his hands and frantically trying to explain himself. “I tried to save you from yourself but I only made it a different kind of worse.”

“Why would I beg you to take all my memories?!” The kind of anger that ran sharp and cold through veins, horrible and all-encompassing, seemed to grip him. Not only did it grip him, but it held him in place, frozen and unable to fling himself at Ben.

“You didn’t beg for them all to go, just...the ones...I showed you the full impact of...what you’d done to try and keep you from doing it again.” Ben stopped, looking incredibly pained. “And it broke you.” His words finally came out in a rush. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to wipe out so much. I was just trying to stop you, and then...you were gone. Your head was such a mess, you were unresponsive for days, and when you finally came around you threatened to kill yourself if I...didn’t somehow stop the memories.”

The air seemed to have left the room. Genesis felt as though someone had scooped out his organs and replaced them with ice. “What could I possibly done that would break me like that?” The silence spoke volumes. “Ben. Tell me.”

More silence.

Genesis took a deep breath. “Did I kill someone?”

“People,” Ben corrected.

“I killed...more than one person?” Genesis said weakly. The world seemed to heave, knocking him off balance. 

“Yeah. A lot more than one." Ben put his hand down looked like he would be sick. His voice shook when he spoke. "I can still hear them.”

The knowledge was overwhelming, a deafening rush of static in Genesis's ears. Whatever had been holding him up let go, and he found himself falling.

* * *

When the static finally cleared from his mind, Genesis sat on his cot, KL-23 nestled in his lap, prodding him with a leg. There was a heavy blanket draped over his shoulders. Ben sat on the opposite end of the cot, cross legged, watching him carefully.

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t understand how.” It hurt, but Genesis had to know. “How...how could I do something like that?”

“It was a...chain of command thing.” Ben shook his head. “Different reasons, I think. You were given orders to do it, so you gave the orders and...you thought it would ultimately save more lives.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” The words were a question, but his tone was flat. “I thought killing people was the right thing to do.”

Ben nodded, his voice cracking when he tried to speak. “Yes.”

“I...killed people. And I thought it was right. What the hell kind of person was I?”

“You thought it was for the greater good. And you were…” Ben hesitated, “Fairly desensitized to death.”

Genesis looked up. “Like you?”

“...not quite the same way, but yes.” Ben seemed to consider. “We were polar opposites, but in some ways, we were more alike than either of us wanted to admit.”

“How could I be like that? Who was I?” he shook his head slowly, trying to take it all in. “Who were we?”

Ben hesitated, then caved. “We were both a part of the First Order. You already know I was an officer. Of sorts.”

“The people we were running from.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Ben laughed rather humorlessly. “Yeah.”

“And we...got out?” Genesis scanned his memory for any hints, filing through the earliest memories he had, scrambled though they were. “Chain of command…” Genesis hesitated. “Was _I_ an officer?”

Ben nodded, his face closing off a bit, becoming a bit less readable. “Yes.”

“Oh. Who am I?” The words seemed to have run out, like a well gone dry. Ben sat down on the floor next to him, wary. “Tell me the truth.”

Ben looked as though the words were being pried out of him. “Armitage Hux. You...were an officer in the First Order.”

He tried the name on for size, turning it every which way in his mind to see where it fit. Ben sat at his side, tense and nervous. ‘Armitage Hux’ was a puzzle piece that didn’t belong anywhere, a name belonging to someone else. Perhaps he could wear it, but it fit the way the boots had, not quite broken in properly for him. “It doesn’t fit.”

Ben frowned. “But that’s your name. I don’t think I ever heard anyone use your first name to your face, but...”

“It’s not right.” He took a breath. It wasn't quite relief, but it was something half-positive. “It doesn’t fit properly now, even if it used to.”

The solemn look on Ben’s face was unnerving. “Then maybe that’s...not who you are anymore.”

“I’d rather keep Genesis.”

Ben looked at him strangely and then his mouth quirked up in a bit of a smile. “I think you might have a chance, if you do.”

“A chance at what?”

There was a moment where it seemed Ben might say something profound, but he might as well have waved goodbye as that moment passed. “A chance to not be a complete dick.”

* * *

It took nearly a full week for everything to sink in. Ben agreed to put off going to Brolsam until things had settled, a plan Genesis had suggested but that Ben had agreed to in moments.

Genesis spent his days working to install the new parts, and Ben, well, Ben meditated and said he was trying to commune with ghosts. As far as Genesis was concerned, the Force still sounded like a bunch of Bantha fodder, but if nothing else it kept Ben out of his way. On top of everything else, it gave him time to think through the early days he could remember. 

They were clearly both horrible people, but they’d run from the Order, the faction they'd belonged to. Why run?

“The Order needs information that was in your head,” Ben had said. What kind of information? Ben had wiped his memory in an effort to keep him from killing himself, because he'd killed people, which Genesis found he couldn’t entirely find fault with even if the logic felt shaky. It was awful for him, personally, but it felt like a no-win scenario, and Ben had taken the route with the least casualties.

As much as he hated it, Ben might have made the right decision.

So why had Ben gone to such lengths to keep him alive?

It took him the full week to come up with an answer. When he stumbled on it, he could barely believe he hadn’t realized earlier.

* * *

In the days after, Genesis tried to think of an appropriate way to bring it up. When it became clear he couldn’t predict Ben’s reaction and prepare, he decided to wing it.

He found Ben slumped in the cockpit, tying and untying knots without bothering to look at them. Instead, he stared out through the glass with unfocused eyes.

“Because.” The ugly pleather copilot’s chair was familiar enough to almost be comfortable now.

“Excuse me?” Ben sat up and turned.

Genesis stared him down, determined to get an answer. “When I asked you why you were helping me escape, you answered with ‘because’, and then you made up an excuse.”

“And?”

“Later you said you cared about me.” Ben’s eyes wavered, but Genesis continued. “Were we involved?”

Ben’s expression was too open, too raw, too easy to read. Even if Ben hadn’t replied, he would have known the truth anyway. “Yes.”

“Physically?”

“Yes.” His voice strained.

“Was it more than that?”

That time Ben’s voice cracked. “…to me.”

“And…to me?”

Ben hesitated, finally admitting, “I don’t know.”

They sat in silence for several minutes before KL-23 came over to Genesis and started pawing at his leg. He lifted the droid, careful of his fingers as it curled its legs into its casement. The entire droid settled happily where he placed it on his lap.

Genesis finally spoke. “You haven’t said anything about it, this entire time. Do you...not want me anymore? Is that what it is?”

Ben shook his head quickly and stumbled through an excuse. “I don’t want you to...I just…” he faltered. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to...you’re a...very different person now, and I…”

“Maybe we just...figure it out as we go.” He leaned forward and carefully placed his hand on Ben’s knee.

Rather than relieved, as Genesis had hoped, Ben looked wretched. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to…”

“What if I was the one that wanted to make something more of this?”

Ben’s expression was pained and his voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke. “I wouldn’t say no.” 

He laced his fingers through Ben’s and sat there in silence, thinking things through. It was the first thing to feel _right_ in weeks.

* * *

_This time was different._

_This time he was there, not watching as a scene played out before him, but inside of it._

_Hands wrapped about his throat, narrow and tight._

_Darkness._

* * *

Genesis woke, disoriented for a moment, then lost when he tried to recall the dream. The sensation of hands wrapped around his throat persisted for a minute, finally fading with the grey haze of sleep. 

In the cot across from him, Ben tossed and turned, gasping for breath. Genesis pushed himself up, and quickly set about waking him. “Ben.” There was a sensation like standing in the middle of a river with water flowing around him, the current growing stronger as Ben struggled. 

“Ben? Wake up, come on, wake up you idiot.” Genesis reached for his shoulder, as if to shake him awake, but found that Ben flickered momentarily toward wakefulness, catching his wrist in a vise-like grip before Genesis could touch him. His eyes snapped open, but he didn’t seem to see or understand who Genesis was, and for a moment, he thought Ben would break his wrist. “Ben!” He flickered awake, his eyes clearing slowly.

Ben's grip loosened but he pulled Genesis forward nonetheless. He didn’t resist, finding himself pulled down into the bunk, where Ben wrapped him to his chest in a momentary soul-crushing cling. Somehow, Ben’s shaky inhales and exhales as his grip loosened were comforting. He could hear the choking fluidity of tears that refused to fall in his breath as he used Genesis as an anchor.

Ben was a mess, an absolute wreck of a person. He barely understood the basic concept of privacy and he’d killed people, just to name a few of his issues. Quite frankly, Ben was a huge fuck-up, but Genesis was beginning to realize that he had no room to judge. Memory or no memory, he’d still done something horrible enough to beg Ben to take the memories away or kill him.

They were two awful people trying to make something of the life they’d carved out for themselves. Genesis let himself have this, a moment of comfort. “If you’re not going to let go, at least scoot over.”

The mumble Ben gave sounded something like, “no room” but he shifted over a bit anyway.

They lay there, a tangled pile of limbs in a cot far too small to contain one of them, much less both. It was almost painfully intimate, but somehow it felt right. They slept curled up together, warding off the dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King of Corners will be on a one week hiatus following this chapter. It will resume on 5/27  
> EDIT: ...the whole hiatus thing got a bit out of hand, huh?
> 
> Huge thanks to betweenheroesandvillains and ocktorok, who hauled me through this chapter.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at versus-verses
> 
> Comments, critiques, and questions always appreciated!


	6. Precipitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm posting this really late (or perhaps early) but it's done and I said I'd get it up Friday (..alright, it's Saturday on a technicality)
> 
> I'll take another look in the morning to make sure I didn't mess anything up!

_There was a deep impossible chill, the kind of feeling he hadn’t felt since Moraband. It made it nearly impossible to pull a single breath out of the air, as though there was a weight on his chest._

_He could see Hux’s eyes, terrified. Clear as glass and panicked as dead, bone-like fingers wrapped around his throat and tightened, crushing it._

_Kylo fought against his bindings, heavy metal manacles that held him, somehow damping his force abilities and keeping him from fighting back._

_“He’s useless. If he won’t be Emperor, he’s of no use to me.”_

_Even as he watched, Hux’s skin took on an eerie blue sheen and the struggle seemed to leave his eyes._

_The voice was thick and dark, the same as the voice in the cave, familiar as it had followed him for decades of his life. And yet it somehow felt wrong, as though it didn’t truly belong to Snoke._

_“Ben!” there was a shout from an unseen source._

_Impossibly, it sounded like Hux, desperate in a way he hadn’t heard before._

_“Ben? Wake up, come on, wake up you idiot.”_

_The world seemed to shake. A hand tight on his shoulder dragged him from sleep._

“Ben!” The dark haze of the dream parted reluctantly, releasing him only to find himself face to face with Hux. Hux, who stood over him, looking worried but very much alive. Thankfulness seemed to swell in him and break like a wave, relief flooding his veins.

Before he had a chance to think it through, Kylo caught Hux’s arm, slowly coming into full wakefulness. It was from the outside that he watched himself pulling Hux down into the cot and holding him close. It was familiar, the intimacy of _presence_ , the soft feeling of welcome, a feeling of finally not being alone.

Eventually, Hux sighed. “If you’re not going to let go, at least scoot over.”

The cot was far too small for the both of them but the warmth was intoxicating, lulling him to sleep like too much wine. “No room,” he mumbled. He shifted to try and give Hux room anyway.

* * *

Kylo woke up, content for the first time in recent memory. He curled around the warm, angular weight nestled to his chest, comfortable and settled, limbs everywhere. He felt relaxed, like he could finally pull in full lungfuls of air, breathing in without the fear that his heart would seize up and stop working.

The morning was dark and dingy in the bunkroom, but the warmth and comfort under the rough blanket seemed to give it a cheerful, rustic sort of atmosphere. Like going indoors after spending hours outside on Starkiller or in some other miserable environment. As grim and dark as it might be, it was warm and heartening and certainly welcome.

The bleariness of sleep seemed to fade slowly, and he instinctively pulled Hux closer to his chest, leaning his cheek against the back of Hux’s head.

Hux.

_Shit._

Kylo thanked the stars that Hux was still asleep, deep in his own dreams which danced enticingly below the surface of his mind. Kylo could have slipped into them and touched or tasted, like dipping a hand into a pool of water, but Hux had made it clear that he perceived it as an invasion of privacy.

Was it? Did everyone believe they had the right to their own thoughts? Certainly altering another person’s mind qualified as an invasion, but simply looking when they practically offered the information up?

The edge of a Force-induced migraine pulsed dimly behind his eyes and Kylo decided he didn’t want to think about it. Instead, he curled tighter about Hux and carefully avoided looking into his head as he relished the closeness.

This, whatever it was, was entirely new. Hux had never wanted him close before, not like this. They’d had their trysts and then separated, spending their time occupied with their individual duties to the Order. Theirs was a relationship built on mutual need, rather than actual care or concern. Yet somehow, here they were, curled up together like lovers. Kylo shied away from the term, disgusted by his own sentimentality.

Hux was still deeply asleep, and there was nothing Kylo wanted more than to hold him close. Their conversation had left him hopeful that maybe Hux was genuinely interested in trying to make _them_ somehow work again.

Quite frankly, all of it terrified him.

Something about all of it felt like a trap, that he didn't deserve anything good left in the world and having Hux like this would make the entire world come crashing down on them. Hux practically nestled in his arms, shifting to be more comfortable and tucking his head into the crook of Kylo’s arm.

As the former General breathed lightly on his skin, Kylo couldn’t help caving a bit to a more sentimental desire and let himself press a slow, careful kiss to Hux’s neck before pulling away and laying his forehead on Hux’s shoulder.

It might’ve been fine, but the quiet, content sigh that slipped between Hux’s lips seemed to reach into his chest and wrench at his heart.

All of this was nothing compared to the rather more inconvenient problem Kylo had found himself with upon waking, a problem that was becoming harder to deal with by the second.

He was torn between removing himself to the ‘fresher and staying in the warmth just a bit longer. He settled for getting up the moment Hux showed any signs of stirring, escaping to the 'fresher.

* * *

The sonic shower was no real substitute for the heat and comfort of a traditional shower, but it was an unfortunate necessity. Even with the lack of comfort, it wasn’t long before he was spilling over his own hand and breathing relief.

As he dressed, he considered the situation.

Whatever this was, Hux hadn’t rejected him. He’d accepted it all in stride, from Kylo’s mistakes to his affection, and it’d slowly turned him into something greater than he’d been. This version of Hux was a better man than the old one had been, without question. Where General Hux had been on a path to greatness, or a path to notoriety if you looked at it from the view of the former New Republic, Genesis had taken a path that allowed him to feel things, to care, and something about him was much stronger than before.

The realization that this new Hux could be a genuinely good person stung. Kylo had known it, in theory, but now it seemed apparent. Hux, without his memories, had been reduced to his training and instincts. He could fight, certainly, but it was clear that he had a strong conscience,one that had been efficiently strangled by his time in the Order.

He walked through the _Revenge_ , reveling in the silence of the ship. The stillness of it all was a stark contrast to the stillness of Moraband, which crept to the front of his mind again. Moraband had been a different sort of silent, the silence that came between whimpers and shrieks at the edge of hearing, the quiet sounds of the dead.

There had been little on that planet, and the memory chilled him to the bone. Instead, he forced himself to think about the present.

The _Revenge_ had become home, old and outdated as it was. Hux hadn’t been clear, but Kylo had a sneaking suspicion that some of the repairs he’d been working on weren’t in the original blueprints of the ship. The image of Hux happy, a wrench in his hands and his mind occupied by the systems he worked on, caught hold of him and seemed to squeeze his chest. The back of his throat was dry and scratched from all the jagged _want_ he’d forced himself to swallow over the past few weeks.

To distract himself, Kylo diverted his attention to making some caf.

* * *

When he rose, Hux spent the morning working on his droid, finishing prepping it for a proper paint job and applying a base coat. It was all he could do to keep the sorry thing still, as it kept getting overexcited and running around the ship.

Kylo made a halfhearted attempt to meditate in the cargo bay, giving up when KL-23 made its third frantic, clicking lap around the ship. He followed it back to the central space and gave Hux a wry look.

“Sorry, Kayell’s been really excited since it got proper paint.”

“I can see that.”

Hux sighed. “It’ll calm down eventually.”

“Meditating clearly won’t work. I can't focus like this. Do you remember how to fight, hand to hand?”

Hux hesitated. “You mean, just basic sparring? Yes. Well, I think so.”

“Perfect. Come on.”

* * *

Kylo watched him and absentmindedly re-wrapped his hands to a thought of _The last thing he needs is broken knuckles, torn tendons or ligaments, or bone bruises._ “We can just use basic rules. No cheap shots, nothing lethal, avoid all permanent damage if possible.” He paused, then nodded. “In all reality I’d just rather know what you can do. At least this way, it’s pretty hard for either of us to kill the other.” Hux shrugged, nodding vague agreement.

That was all there was to it, all the preparation they had. From there, they moved in on each other, both of them recognizing the other’s motions but unsure of the other’s capabilities. They circled each other, watching carefully for any sign of a move. Eyes locked and Kylo felt the anticipation radiating from him. Hux knew they’d been here before, even if he couldn’t remember it. They moved back and forth and Kylo tossed a couple light punches his way, which he blocked and moved with. They weren’t made to hurt, but to test Hux’s defenses. He fought in near silence, punctuated by hisses of air as he punched, pushed from his lungs by tightened core muscles. Warily, they surveyed each other.

Kylo couldn’t remember who threw the first real punch, but they plunged into the rhythmic back and forth of a real fight. There was nothing around them, nothing else in the world. _Block, swing. Block, shift, and swing. Move. Constantly move the feet. Right._ Hux hit fast, dancing away from Kylo’s heavier shots. Hux twisted to evade a punch, then turned away as it was followed up by a second.

Kylo landed the first serious blow, catching Hux’s arm in an iron grip and spinning him off balance before driving an elbow into his back. Hux fell forward, catching himself as he hit the ground and rolled away, quickly stumbling back to his feet. He tapped a hand to his chest and raised a finger, noting the hit.

He gave Hux enough time to pull himself up and then they fell back together, rush and strike, dodge and swing. Hux was fast, faster than he’d ever been. If Kylo wanted to make this work, he had to scare him, get inside his defenses. An abrupt change of direction provided the opening he was looking for, as he turned toward one of Hux’s punches.

As soon as he'd done it, though, Kylo recoiled, realizing his action was inaccurate and out of control. Hux jammed a knuckle into his back, just above a kidney. It was hard enough to hurt, to tell him he’d be dead if Hux had held a blade in his hand. It would have been crippling, if not lethal, to take a knife to a kidney. Hux’s point.

They split and reset, sliding through the motions with power and confidence until one of them slipped up. It was Kylo that made the next mistake, lashing out with a punch he fully expected to land. It turned out Hux was too far away, but he’d already committed to the attack. Kylo’s punch glanced off his shoulder and he overshot his target, leaning forward to catch himself. Too close, he was too close, he had to throw the brakes and backpedal out of Hux’s range before he found an opening…

Too late. Hux knocked the air out of him as he dropped low and drove his shoulder into Kylo’s torso, earning his name groaned through gritted teeth. Kylo could have grabbed at his shoulders, but in all reality it hurt too much to bother. They backed apart, watching each other carefully. It took a moment for Kylo to catch his breath again and he knuckled the spot where Hux had hit him, rubbing the pain out. “Come on now, try not to break ribs.”

Points were forgotten as they sized each other up again, new perspectives playing havoc with their earlier perceptions. Hux’s attack had been unpredictable, mimicking something Kylo might have done. Hux stood back and watched him carefully, in case it was a trick. They both took a moment to try to recover, still circling. Rather than slip into a defense, Kylo took controlled breaths before sliding back into a crouched position. It lowered his center of gravity even more than before, giving him a steadier base to start from, although he could feel the slow burn in his legs.

The pattern of back and forth resumed, but they sped up, taking risks they hadn’t taken before. They knew each other, all too well. Hux’s eyes glinted and he watched carefully as Kylo clearly shifted his weight into a defensive stance and let him take the lead. Hux slowed even more, clearly wary of a trap, with the way his eyes flicked from Kylo’s hands to his face to his feet. Hux clearly didn’t want to wait to see what Kylo was planning. He wanted to attack.

In response, Kylo forced himself to slow down, trying to regain his composure, but he was balanced on a razor’s-edge of adrenaline. It was the feeling he got in his gut just before a battle, the fine line between the senses that would keep him alive and the adrenaline rush that he knew would get him killed. When he checked his balance and adjusted his stance, Hux stepped out of range but kept moving, instinctively knowing his favored move at this point would be to feint right and tense left before doubling back to the right with an extremely fast punch.

A relaxed state, rather than a tensed one, would deliver a much faster strike. He would move deceptively slowly until he thought he had an opening. Then he would take it, no mercy.

Hux was ready for it, showing a false opening on the left to draw him in. When Kylo took it, Hux shifted and closed the opening, trying to take advantage of the way Kylo had already closed the distance. He landed a jackrabbit punch to Kylo’s jaw, not enough to hurt him but certainly enough to knock him back.

They truly settled in, engaging and breaking apart as if they’d always been regular partners. Kylo quickly realized Hux was inadvertently tapping into the Force. Rather than blocking or correcting him, Kylo let it go and did the same allowing them to read each other’s emotions like feeling heat radiating from an engine. The flow of information between them was unintended, a byproduct of Force sensitivity. Still, it proved useful. Kylo knew what Hux knew, Hux knew what he knew. 

It put them on near-equal footing, something that thrilled Kylo more than he wanted to admit. Still, it eventually became tiresome and Kylo wanted nothing more than to end it. With a rush he lunged in, using the full weight of his body to take Hux down. He managed to hit Kylo in the shoulder on the way, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He caught Hux in a bear hug and dragged him down to the ground.

“Get off of me you…” He cut off short. The expression of bloody fury on Hux’s face melted into puzzlement as he realized Kylo was laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“You’ve already started connecting to the Force, I thought we’d agreed nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did, but it’s alright. I did as well.” Kylo shook his head, still smiling a bit. “You’re a natural. It’s not exactly...proper, or traditional, but you’re incorporating what you’re feeling through the Force into what you already know. We can work with that and develop it.”

* * *

They talked about their personal hand-to-hand fighting experience over a midday meal. Kylo had known little about Hux’s experience, and he questioned him thoroughly. Interestingly, it seemed that most of Hux’s training had remained intact in his mind and he could talk about it comfortably.

“Your moves split up defensive and offensive actions, it’s inefficient.”

“Yours weren’t nearly as effective as they should have been.”

Hux snorted. “I’m not sure how long it’s been since I used actual hand-to-hand, but I felt horribly out of practice even if I remember a lot of the material. How long has it been? Care to enlighten me?”

Kylo shrugged. “I’d guess something like...ten years?”

“Then you have no right to criticize me for being less effective than I ought to have been. The technique is coming back slowly.”

“Tell me about it.”

Hux considered. “Mind you, I don’t remember where I learned any of this, so bear with me.”

“Shoot.”

“The obvious goal is to neutralize the threat, no matter how you have to do it, and to do it quickly. Simply put, dominate and incapacitate, although I think I went for incapacitation most of the time. Not really sure.” Hux frowned. “I have a distinct memory of someone screaming ‘fuck your etiquette’ at me, but I have no idea who or when or why.”

“I didn’t see you using preset patterns as you moved,” Kylo said.

“I don’t think that’s what I learned, it’s too reactive. The actions are supposed to be combined, an offensive movement with each defensive movement. That way you can disrupt your opponent’s attack and counterattack at the same time.”

“I can see that. You’ll need to change your pacing.”

“Right? It wasn’t working properly.”

“You’re impatient.”

Hux made a dismissive noise. “I take openings where I can.”

Later that evening as Kylo meditated he reconsidered the way Hux sparred. He needed to listen to his instincts more, rather than thinking things through first. He needed to be patient, but he also need to react reflexively, which meant he would need to train to change his immediate reaction to such situations. Half the things he needed to do conflicted with other mistakes he needed to correct.

Kylo very nearly shook his head. They had their work cut out for them.

* * *

"I'd like to start your training."

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”

“I meant training in the ways of the Force.”

Hux looked up from his bowl of soup, his spoon freezing halfway to his mouth. "You're not getting in my head again."

"You need to be able to defend yourself."

"From who? You?"

"I'm not the only one that can read minds."

"What, your mother? Your teacher?"

Kylo recoiled from the thought of Snoke. “Among other people.” He frowned. "Anyone that's Force sensitive that has the proper training can. You could, with the right teacher."

Hux's face twisted with distaste. "And...you want to teach me?"

"You wanted to learn to defend yourself and I'm not sure how to teach that. So if that's what you want to learn...we're going to need to start from the basics." Kylo considered "Really, it's going to take quite a bit of trial and error."

Hux grimaced and put his spoon down deliberately. "There's no other way?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well.” Hux looked defeated. “We can give it a try, I suppose."

* * *

They sat across from each other on the floor of the cargo bay. Kylo sat, legs turned in his usual cross-legged pose. Hux seemed rather less comfortable, his posture still military-rigid. "We're going to start with breathing exercises. Once we're in the right frame of mind, I'm going to try and take readings on you. Assuming you give me permission.”

Hux sighed. “You’ve already rifled through just about everything in my head. I feel like asking for permission ought to have happened then.”

“I’m asking now.”

“Yeah, fine.” Hux sounded resigned. “Whatever you need access to, in the early part of this training process, fine.”

“See if you can...I'm not sure, defend yourself."

Hux grimaced and closed his eyes, settling into a stiff-backed imitation of Kylo's pose.

It wasn't difficult for Kylo to drop into a meditative state. He'd learned to do it young, from Luke, but he'd made his own changes to it as he grew. Where Luke closed his eyes and tried to block out any external stimulus, Kylo let it wash over him, letting it all in but tuning it out like white noise.

Though his eyes were closed, Hux seemed to struggle to find the easy calm Kylo slipped into like his usual clothes. After awhile, it became clear Hux wasn't finding a relaxed state, so Kylo paused and stood up. Hux cracked an eye and looked up at him, only to find him holding out a hand. "Come on, let's take a break." 

"We've only just started!"

He could feel Hux's distress, so he lied. "I'm feeling a bit unfocused. Hungry?"

Hux grumbled, but followed him.

* * *

Shortly after, they sat in the galley, aimlessly working on their own projects. Kylo looked through what little info Elie had been able to provide about the offered job, while Hux realigned KL-23’s articulating joints, as it had somehow knocked them askew again.

"We should be fine, it sounds like an easy enough job."

Hux glanced up and frowned. "Too easy, if you ask me. It feels like a trap."

"It'll be fine. I can get us out of a sticky situation if I have to."

"You sure about that?" Hux gave him a wry look, adjusting KL-23 as it sat in his lap, humming quietly.

"Pretty sure." They sat in pleasant silence for a time, nothing but the humming sound of KL-23's motor and the occasional tap of Kylo's fingers on the datapad.

Eventually, Kylo resigned himself to taking Hux back to meditation. With the overarching permission Hux had given to touch mind-to-mind with regards to his training, Kylo skimmed the surface to see if his mind had settled. Instead of the roiling mess he'd felt earlier, he found that Hux was calm and centered, relaxed as he focused on repairing KL-23. It seemed Hux had found a near meditative state on his own, simply by focusing on the droid’s detailed mechanics.

It was clearly advantageous to use that state of mind, so Kylo did his best not to break it. "Actually, we're just going to stay here."

"What?" Hux's mind rippled, anxiety making waves.

"Just keep working on KL-23, as if someone were to try getting into your mind while you were working."

Hux nodded and looked back to KL-23 without argument. Kylo took a breath and stretched, standing up and raising a hand toward Hux's face. He exhaled and pushed forward into Hux's mind with the breath.

The driver in Hux's hand stilled and his eyes widened as he became conscious of the attempted invasion. "Is that you?"

"Can you try to block me out?"

"How?"

"Just...try? Think of building walls up around your consciousn..." The walls that slammed into place nearly knocked him off his chair. He caught himself on the table, feeling the mental blow like a physical one.

Hux blinked, his eyes widening in surprise as he picked KL-23 out of his lap and put it on the floor to skitter away.

Kylo stared at him, meeting his surprised gaze for a long moment before grinning madly. "I have no idea what that was, but it was incredible. Try it again, ready?"

"I don't..." Hux began uncertainly.

"Try it before you slip out of a meditative state." Kylo pulled himself up, sitting down in front of Hux and refusing to break eye contact. He reached out, pushing against his mind and reaching for his thoughts. Resistance, yes, there was definitely resistance, but nothing like it'd been before. He pushed forward, finding himself among scattered thoughts and memories.

_A droid of some sort, painted black with a sleek casement, held out an articulated arm and handed him a bowl filled with something of unknown origins, but clearly edible._

Kylo retreated, unsure if he’d stumbled into something personal or not. Hux looked confused, although not angry. “Was that…yours?”

“No,” Kylo said.

Hux blanched. “Ah. Mine then.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. “Think you might be able to give it another go? If not, we can stop for now.”

“Yeah, let's try again.”

This time, as Kylo pushed reached out and pushed into Hux’s mind, there was more than a simple wall of resistance. Kylo pushed and Hux pushed back, forcing him to retreat. It ought to have been enough, to simply retreat to the edges of Hux’s mind, but no. Instead of simply leaving him be, Hux continued the chase, pushing Kylo back into his own mind, into memories he’d long buried.

_A quiet afternoon, a boy with a wide, rakish smile and dark hair. A tree with long browning leaves, not quite dead enough to fall. He's laughing, and Ben isn't sure if he's laughing because of him or at him._

Kylo gasped for air and tried to push back, but found that although he wasn’t exactly under attack, he couldn’t defend himself. He’d been shoved so far into the back of his own mind that the more he struggled against the memories, the further they dragged him under.

_Other children, many of them, dressed in equally starchy and awful clothing. Many of the delegates brought their children with them to the Senate, although few were clever enough to escape their guardians._

_"You're not smart enough to be Luke!" A boy said waspishly. "I don't care if he's your uncle, you're too stupid."_

_"Am not!" He hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, but he’d always been gangly and awkward compared to his peers, even at six years old._

_"I get to be Luke! If you want to play, you can be Darth Vader."_

_"I don't want to be evil!"_

_"Too bad, you don't get to play otherwise."_

Another memory Kylo recognized as his own, hitting too close to home. He pushed back, but the memories clung to him.

_The look in his father’s eyes, his face flickering with reddish light. Han Solo looked old, so old and weak. Snoke had given orders for his death and Kylo had accepted them._

_A heavy, worn hand on his cheek. Eyes asking for forgiveness. A bellow of angry Shyriiwook._

_The feeling of a life guttering out in the Force._

This time he reeled back, pushing back against Hux’s mind in an attempt to get away. He gasped for breath and found Hux staring, wide eyed.

“What was…?”

“Let’s…we're done with that for today.”

“Ben…”

“No.” Kylo stood up. “We’re done for today.”

* * *

They worked again the next day, trying to solidify the liminal space that seemed to form between them when they tried to skim each other’s minds. It took several hours, but when Hux finally pushed back as he had the day before, Kylo found himself flung back into the far reaches of his own mind again.

_An ordinary day on the Finalizer. Seeing Hux standing in the middle of the launch bay, his heavy overcoat worn properly for once. He surveyed his territory, occasionally snapping off a command, and the pit of desire on Kylo’s gut flared to life._

_Without warning, Hux turned and met his eyes. Although it was a memory, Kylo had the disconcerting feeling the Hux in front of him could see every thought running through his mind. It didn’t help that the overwhelmingly predominant thought in his mind was that he wanted to drag Hux away to some hidden corner and convince him to remove the mask._

Kylo found himself leaning forward and trying to catch his breath as he tumbled back into the present. Even the familiar place didn’t reduce the terrifying feeling in his gut as Hux’s eyes flickered open.

With their faces only inches apart, he could see all the tiny details of Hux’s face, picked out in high definition. His eyes were still clear as glass, although there was something kinder about them, this far away from the _Finalizer_. His beard had grown in scraggly, but he’d trimmed it and now he looked older, more mature than he had as a fresh-faced commanding officer. Hux held his stare as long as he could, then glanced away, quickly licking his lips as if they’d gone dry.

“Just kiss me already if you’re going to, don’t keep doing this to me.” Hux’s voice was low and soft, barely audible.

“I’m…I don’t…”

“Was that an actual memory?” The uncertainty in his voice left Kylo anxious. “You wanted me like that?”

Kylo forced himself to nod.

“But I’m different now. You’ve said so yourself. I’m not the same person I was.”

The nervousness seemed to fade although he found the words sticking in his mouth. “You’re different, yes. But not in a bad way.”

“Do you still?” Hux spoke slowly, as if picking his words out with care. “Want me, that is?”

Judging by Hux’s expression, he was too easy to read. Kylo hated himself for it, but there was little else he could do. “You won’t hate me?”

“I just want to know what you’re thinking without having to read your mind the way you seem to be able to read mine,” he said quietly.

Kylo closed his eyes and swallowed, his adam’s apple catching in his throat as he resigned himself to the truth. “I think I want you even more than I did before,” he said quietly, little more than a whisper. “But now I don’t feel like we’re on the same level. You’re a better person than me.”

“Ben…”

“No, please, wait. I’ll let you in, I’ll show you. Just don’t…hate me for it.”

Hux pressed his hand to the side of Kylo’s face. “As long as it’s mutual.”

Kylo threw some of his thoughts into the place between their minds. Hux did the same. He could feel the deep ache that was ever present in Hux’s side, his heart beating strong, if sluggish.

_Feelings of rejection and worry flowing from Hux like water, clear enough to be recent feelings. Almost fear, a debilitating fear that Ben didn’t want him, wouldn’t want him anymore, couldn’t want him anymore._

Kylo retreated for a moment, confronted with his old name and the fact that Hux still wanted him. Instead of simply letting go as Kylo expected, Hux held on to the link, reaching out to comfort as best as he could. Tentatively, Kylo offered him a more comprehensive thought.

_Concern, worry. The fear of hurting someone. Fear of rejection. Heartbreak. Pain._

In the end, Kylo was unsure which of them offered the next tentative thought. _Affection._

It was quiet, hardly more than a suggestion, but it unleashed a flurry of other thoughts, loosed between minds with less hesitation.

_Admiration._

_Awe._

_Want._

He was brought partially back to reality by Hux’s hand twining in his hair and gently pulling him forward to touch foreheads. It was a terrifyingly intimate gesture, shared between two people whose former jobs hadn’t made touch a regular occurrence. Even when they were involved, there had been a mutual understanding that whatever was between them was little more than a way to release stress.

Hux’s breath hitched as Kylo leaned in, pressing their lips together slowly, giving Hux time to back away. As his fingers tangled deeper in Kylo’s hair and pulled him closer, it was clear he had no intention to back down. Instead, they leaned on each other, the press of lips opening as tongues entered the picture.

It wasn't long before Hux mumbled, “Bed,” into the side of his neck.

The word sent a thrill of adrenaline through Kylo’s veins, which he only just managed to tamp down to ask, “Are you sure?”

“I might not remember everything, but I know what I want.” The _you_ went unspoken.

Kylo glanced back at the cot, momentarily breaking Hux from the line of kisses he’d been mouthing into the crook of his neck. “You honestly think there’s room?”

“No, but it’s better there than here.”

“Good point.”

As they tumbled onto the bed, there was a metallic skittering noise, then a high pitched whistle. Hux’s head shot up in surprise and his eyes widened, but before the droid in the doorway could do anything Kylo threw his hand out, slamming the bunkroom door shut with the Force.

The distressed whistles and beeps from the other side were absolutely pathetic. Hux clicked and whistled a response in an effort to calm the droid. It beeped again, only to get a shorter response from Hux. The faint click of metal footpads disappeared down the hall.

“What did you tell it?”

“That everything was fine and it didn’t have to be scared of you.”

“Scared of me? Why would it be…?”

“Slamming the door was a bit unnecessary.”

Kylo bristled. “Alright, fine, we’ll say it was. Where’s it gone?”

“I told it to go sleep, so it should have gone to its charger.”

“In the cargo hold?”

“Mmhmm.” The thin smile on Hux’s face grew as Kylo’s hands returned to his waist. Hands slid over skin, leaving paths across nerves that seemed to light up. It was simple, straightforward, hardly even sexual, but Kylo found it more satisfying than anything he could think of in recent memory. One of Hux’s hands skimmed up his neck, unexpectedly sliding up to the faint scar the scavenger had left.

As Kylo flinched away from the touch, Hux’s eyes widened with surprise. “I’m…look, I’m sure I used to know what you like or don’t like, I just need a…a bit of guidance learning it again.”

“No, it’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” The words seemed to trip from his mouth too fast. “You never used to, uh…” he finally slowed, unsure how to explain it. “You used to ignore the scars, pretend like they didn’t exist.”

The expression on Hux’s face slid from surprise to shame. “I’m…I’d say I’m sorry, but I can’t remember it.” He moved his hand as if to touch Kylo’s face again. “Is this…alright?”

“More than.” Kylo leaned into it, closing his eyes and simply appreciating the touch. Why Hux had found his scars so distasteful before, he would never know. Perhaps because they were a tangible sign of failure, or perhaps it was something as simple as finding them ugly. Now, Hux touched him like he might break him, as though the scars would split open again, fresh as the day the scavenger and Chewbacca had inflicted them.

In the space between their minds, Hux tentatively offered a thread of thought. Kylo reached for it, expecting worry or disgust, only to be blindsided by unadulterated want, a sensation that came through the link hot and golden.

The sound that brought him back to reality had embarrassingly come from his own mouth as Hux pulled his shirt over his head and mouthed at the scar that stretched down his shoulder, freshly bared. Kylo gritted his teeth to bite back another groan, but Hux continued removing clothes, making quick work of his pants and briefs.

“Stay still.”

Kylo’s eyes shot open at the familiar words. “What are you going to do if I don’t?” His mouth very nearly went dry at the way Hux glared at him for a moment before he looked him up and down. Hux couldn’t keep the act up long, and instead slid into a smile that promised trouble as he slipped Kylo’s briefs down.

The slow pleasure of Hux simply touching him didn’t lessen, but before long he was able to think more clearly. Somehow it didn’t seem quite fair to Kylo that he'd been stripped bare while Hux was still clothed, and he turned his attention to stripping Hux rather less gracefully. He was still fighting with the zipper when Hux finally took Kylo in hand and turned his wrist, almost tentative. He took Kylo’s quick nod as approval and squeezed gently, running his hand down the length of him.

Kylo gasped as Hux tightened his grip, running his thumb over the head and smearing wetness further down. He ran his hands along Hux’s sides and pushed his shirt up over his head, coming back to settle his thumbs in the divot of Hux’s hipbones, as though they’d been made to fit. From there he made short work of Hux’s pants, relishing in the groan dragged from his mouth when Kylo finally got his hands on him.

Amid it all, the mental link glowed warm and comfortable between the two of them. When Hux finally leaned in for another kiss, Kylo didn’t hesitate. It was sloppy yet still the kind of kiss that seemed to light his mind aflame.

In the end it was rushed and rough, both of them so desperate for touch that they rutted against each other shamelessly. Hux’s hand ran through his hair, tightening near the nape of his neck and pulling his head back, baring his neck. “Ren,” he groaned into the niche of Kylo’s shoulder. “I’m…”

As the name sank in, Kylo froze. “What?”

“Fuck.” Hux’s eyes flicked open and Kylo was surprised to find his pupils were blown wide. “Ben, if you stop now I’ll kill you myself, galaxy be damned.”

 _Ren. Ben. It all blends together._ Whether the slip had been purposeful or not, it didn’t matter. A bit of Ben had slipped in, and there was no way around it. Hux brought his attention back to the task at hand by shifting his grip, changing the point of friction and tightening. An inadvertent sound slipped from Kylo’s mouth and he found Hux dragging him deeper into a sloppy kiss.

When it was over they fell asleep tangled together, sated and warm in the glow of the open mental link.

* * *

_The room was dark, echoing as though the space stretched for miles._

_Hux walked ahead of him down a path of marble, glowing dimly under the light that fell from an indeterminate source above._

_The dais up ahead rose above them, smooth marble steps arcing toward them. A figure stood on the dais, an aged being wrapped in dark robes. Sickening red and gold eyes shone from sunken eye sockets as it held a cloth-covered tray out to Hux, its contents invisible._

_Kylo called out to him, but Hux didn’t seem to hear. He ascended the steps slowly, taking a golden circlet from the tray, lifting it and looking through it into the darkness beyond._

_From over his shoulder, Kylo could see the galaxy dancing through the circlet, stars and planets all waiting to be brought to heel._

_Hux turned and stopped as he finally caught sight of Kylo beyond the loop of gold._

_“This is...what I’m supposed to do. What I was born to do.” Hux seemed uncertain, his hands hesitating as they rose to lift the crown, as though it was only proper for him to set it on his own head._

_“Hux. Please.”_

_The monster that looked like a man behind Hux turned to Kylo, his eyes sunken and red. “This is his destiny.”_

_“Fuck destiny.”_

_Hux looked lost, but the man smiled, plucking the crown from Hux’s still fingers and gracelessly shoving it down on his head, nearly to his ears. “You don’t have that privilege, Skywalker child.”_

* * *

Fear clung to him as he woke, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Hux dreamt of a throne, and not for the first time Kylo wondered how much Snoke could influence them this far away. She’d always been able to speak directly in his head, ever since he’d first met her, thinking she was a friend.

For now, he couldn’t dwell on the idea. He sat up and turned to Hux, grabbing his shoulder and waiting for the nightmare to recede. When Hux showed no signs of waking up, slow fear bloomed into terror.

“Wake up!” he shook Hux, who came around with a startled snort, flying into a wakeful state. “You have to stop dreaming this shit!”

“What?”

“You’re dreaming, you can’t think that!” Kylo heard the panic in his own voice as if listening to a recording of himself. It felt distant, secondhand.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hux's voice was husky with sleep, his expression confused.

“You can’t…you can’t let her in your head like that, you’ll tell her where we are, if she doesn’t already know.” Even to his own ears, it sounded pathetic, but the fear had finally crept in and there was no escaping it. He curled in on himself, hunching his shoulders defensively. “She’ll find us, she’ll make me…”

Without warning, Hux grabbed the former Knight’s wrist in a grip that could have broken bones, shockingly strong despite the narrow build of his hands. “No, she won’t. It’s your choice. Ben, look at me.” He turned Kylo’s chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes again. “You are your own person. Nobody gets to decide that for you. You’re free to make your own choices.”

“I’m not free, you don’t understand.”

For a moment, Kylo thought Hux would yell at him. Instead, he shifted, sitting up and crossing his legs. “Fine. Explain it to me, then. Help me understand.”

Kylo made a noise of frustration. “I can’t explain, I’ve never been able to explain it.”

“Can you show me instead?”

He stopped as Hux’s idea dawned on him. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with being in other people’s heads.”

Hux frowned. “I don’t, but I think we’ve long since passed that point.”

Kylo nodded slowly and sat down on the bed across from Hux, tucking his legs under himself and taking controlled breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Hux moved to mirror him, limbs still loose from sleep. Instead of the stiff mess he’d been the first time he’d tried to meditate, he sat at ease, open and a bit vulnerable.

As Kylo held out his hands, Hux met him in the middle, and the world around them dissolved in a memory.

* * *

_It had been easy enough to escape Chewie in the crowd. His father had gone looking for a contact of his, leaving him with Uncle Chewie and a pocketful of change. And really, Wookies were agile, but not as agile or as fast as a boy of five, able to slip between legs and stalls in the bazaar._

_Once outside of the crowd, he slipped out of town, into woods beyond. He ran happily, jumping from rocky patch to log, log to rock in the middle of the stream. He’d nearly reached the clearing when he heard a voice. “Help!”_

_He hesitated, unsure if he’d actually heard the call. Still and quiet as only a child in hiding could be, he waited._

_“Is anyone there? Please, help me!”_

_The second time, he knew for certain he’d heard it. He headed in the direction in which he thought he heard the voice, looking about nervously for the owner. “Hello?”_

_“Is somebody there? Please, I’m here, help me.”_

_To Ben’s dismay, he couldn’t see anyone. “Where?”_

_“Down here in the grass.”_

_Although he didn’t entirely understand, Ben got down low and searched, trying to be careful where he put his hands and knees. There didn’t seem to be any sort of underground cell, or any sign of a person. “Where are you?”_

_“The crystal, I’m right here…” the voice seemed to be fading, and Ben went back to work, searching for anything crystalline._

_When he found it, there was no question in his mind. A deep red crystal, laced with cracks, lay on the ground nearly hidden by the grass. He picked it up and brushed the dirt off, frowning._

_“Hello?” The crystal pulsed in his hand, and he nearly dropped it in surprise._

_“Who are you?”_

_“I reside within this crystal. Whoever had it before threw me away.” The voice was ambiguous, although something about it felt more male than female. Then again, aliens weren’t quite like that, and the owner of the voice might be another gender altogether._

_Ben pushed the thought aside and frowned. “Are you some kind of spirit?”_

_“Of a sort. Who are you?”_

_“My name’s Ben.”_

_“You must me someone special to have heard me. Are you Force sensitive?”_

_At that, Ben perked up. “Master Luke has been teaching me about the Force.”_

_“Master Luke...Skywalker?” the voice was silent a moment, then curious. “Do you know how to use a lightsaber? Or how they work?”_

_"Master Luke has been teaching me a bit.” Ben admitted, confused by the change of direction._

_"Then I think it will interest you to know that this was Darth Vader's kyber crystal, the one from his lightsaber."_

_“Darth Vader?” Ben frowned suspiciously. “Are you bad? Darth Vader was bad."_

_"No, of course not. Don't you know? He redeemed himself in the end. I'm sure Master Skywalker told the world a different story, but Darth Vader is the one that killed the Emperor."_

_Ben gaped at the glowing red crystal. "No, Luke said..."_

_"Would anyone have believed him if he'd told the truth?"_

_"...no."_

_"Precisely. Darth Vader was a hero. And my kyber crystal was once his." There was pride in the voice._

_Ben tentatively turned the crystal over in his hand. "Who are you?"_

_"I was a friend of his, shortly after he changed his name from Anakin Skywalker."_

_In his surprise, the crystal slipped between his fingers and he dropped to the ground, scrambling to find it in the grass. Relief flooded him when he found it, brushing grime from the faintly pulsing red stone. "Skywalker?"_

_"Yes, Skywalker. He was your Master Luke's father."_

_The realization hit Ben like lightning. "Darth Vader...was my grandfather?"_

_The crystal seemed to pulse with surprise. "Oh? How so?"_

_"Luke is my uncle!"_

_"The Force must have led me to you then, child. It seems we were fated to find each other."_

_“What’s your name?”_

_The voice gave a breathy sigh. “You may call me Snoke, Skywalker child.”_

* * *

“She’s never going to let me go.” Kylo spoke before the memory cleared entirely.

“Who exactly is Snoke?”

Kylo took a deep breath. “Supreme Leader Snoke. The one that gave us orders. The voice from the crystal. That was how she first contacted me.”

Hux sat up, his eyes widening with understanding. “Oh.”

“She’s stronger than me in the Force.”

The frown that had taken up position on Hux’s face grew. “Your teacher?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re far away from her here. Isn’t it far enough to be safe?”

Kylo shook his head, then hesitated. “It...no. It feels like it is, but I don’t think so.”

Hux frowned. “Has she been in your head recently?”

“Not since Moraband, before I…” he made a vague motion with his hand, “...you know, your memory.”

“How often is she normally in your head?”

“More or less constantly.”

“Is there any chance something’s changed?”

The bizarrely clinical tone of the questions threw Kylo off. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

Hux stared him down, his brow furrowed. “Could you try to learn the thing I’m trying to learn? Blocking people?”

The possibility dangled in front of his face changed his outlook. “I don’t think so, not with her. I can try, but I don’t know.”

Hux seemed to approach it as a puzzle, frowning a bit more each time Kylo gave him a negative answer. “What about the crystal? Where is that?”

The pang of regret in Kylo’s voice was clear. “I lost it when I lost my lightsaber. When I got this.” He pointed to the scar on his face.

Of all things Hux might have done, grinning wasn’t one Kylo had expected. “Try to check if she’s still in your head. Really try to feel it.”

Coming from Hux, who had seen her through the memory more vividly than anyone else ever had, it felt like a betrayal. Kylo stood up, lunging out of bed angrily and stalking over to the door. He spun back, swinging his arm in a motion that would’ve been a slash if he’d had his saber in hand. “You have no idea how powerful she is!”

“That might be the case, but I suspect she used the crystal as an amplifier.”

“She…what?” Kylo stopped dead.

Hux’s face had lit up. “From what you’ve said, it’s a short-range ability. If she used it as an amplifier, she’d be able to speak to you almost anywhere, but only if you had it with you. And what could she be sure you’d carry? Your lightsaber. Your primary weapon, I assume.” Hux’s grin was huge, almost manic. “Try reaching out to her!”

“I can’t, I haven’t actually felt her in my head since…”

“Since you lost your saber, right?”

He reached out for the space Snoke would often take as her own when she was in his head and found it empty. For a moment he felt as though he’d been punched, wondered if it could possibly be true. The implication sent shivers up his spine, the cold fear that he had finally messed up badly enough for Snoke to dispose of him entirely. Hux was right. There was nothing there to block.

Everything Hux had said seemed to fit. His mother and Luke had only ever been able to be in his head when close to him, or in direct contact. Snoke’s absence had seemed absolute, but now he was a ship adrift on the open ocean. “How did you…?”

"She's gone, isn't she?" Hux grinned, the manic look fading into the insufferable smile he had when he knew he was right about something. “The way you described when you told me who could get in your head and how they might get in mine it made it sound like something the range might impact. Throw the crystal in with that, and the first thing that came to mind was an amplifier.”

The anger seemed to go out of him in a rush. Kylo stood, feeling oddly light as he looked down at Hux perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m…not sure where to go from here.”

“You get to decide.” Hux said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. He held his arms open and Kylo accepted the hug, relishing in the feel of Hux’s arms wrapped around his hips and the scrape of his beard on his stomach.

_I’m afraid._

_If you follow the path she set you on, you become the thing you’re scared of. If you fight it, you can be something completely different._

* * *

They took to space, headed for the far reaches of the Outer Rim. Elie’s contact hadn’t had much in the way of information about the job, but he’d seemed to think that they ought to be able to handle it.

During the trip, they continued to expand on what they were able to do through the liminal space between their minds. Hux, once introduced to the idea, was determined to make it work to their advantage. They threw ideas back and forth in the place between their minds throughout the day, learning to communicate entirely without speaking.

Hux pushed himself to the breaking point at times. He hated the idea of letting someone in his head, but he forced himself to accept Kylo’s presence. After a while, Kylo set him to trying to block him out, rather than letting him in. _Patience_ he thought into the liminal space. _You have to be patient._

_I want to understand how this works. How can you stand not knowing?_

Kylo paused, realizing that this was simply how Hux’s mind was. He took things apart so he could put them back together and understand how they worked. _There are some things there aren’t answers to. You can’t know everything._

Hux sighed with resignation and looked back to KL-23, which had somehow managed to uninstall its sensory input driver and was wandering around the ship bumping into things, making sad little noises each time it made a metallic clunk on the wall. They watched it amble about and Kylo tried not to laugh as a small bubble of desperate humor welled up inside him. “You going to fix that?”

He nodded. “Eventually.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Hux shrugged and picked it up. “Nothing, really. It seemed to be cheering you up, that’s all.”

* * *

It took longer than they would have liked to find the planet Elie had pointed them toward, but once they did there were few settlements within satellite range. There was little to be said about the place, a small and nondescript warehouse on yet another planet in the Outer Rim. Kylo wanted to hate the position the galaxy had put them in, running from place to place doing menial jobs for people, but they needed the money.

The building was silent, seemingly empty, as it ought to be. In retrospect, Kylo wanted to smack himself for not feeling the place out with the Force first. It wasn’t until a voice spoke up from the darkness that it occurred to him something might be wrong.

“Ben Solo.” Kylo turned around at the sound of the voice, its accent seemingly Mindorian. He spotted the scraggly man down an aisle. In the space of a breath, he reached out to the Force, checking for others. Nearly twenty of them, scattered about the warehouse. “Your father owes us money.”

“You seem to know me, but I have no idea who you are.” Kylo fought the urge to swear and gave the man a flat look, somehow entirely unsurprised that his father had cut deals with such a lot of unsavory characters. _Eighteen at my count. Get ready for a fight._ Hux tensed up at his side as he picked up on the message in the liminal space.

“Doesn’ matter.”

He could feel how many of them there were, and while he knew he could have handled it with his lightsaber in hand, without it defense became rather more difficult. Plus, there was Hux to think about. He’d be fine if they had a defensible position, but Kylo could feel a number of them on all sides. Surrounded. They’d walked straight into a trap.

Internally, Kylo hated himself for what he was about to do. The next best option. The Han Solo way.

He tried to talk their way out.

“Oh. Well, uh…we’ve got some problems here.” Kylo gave the man what he hoped to be a pleasant smile. “One, I have no idea who you are. Two...”

“We’re with the Guavian Death Gang.” The man hacked and spit. “And Han Solo killed my brother and all his men.”

Kylo shrugged noncommittally. “Nope, sorry, still don’t know you.”

“The name’s Bala-Del, and you’ll remember it for what happened to my brother,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

Kylo continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted, an old trick he’d seen used all to frequently in his childhood. “As I was saying, two, ordinarily, you could send my father bits of me in intergalactic mail and I still don’t think he’d pay you, we're not that close. And then we’ve got problem number three, and that’s that he’s dead. So. Good luck collecting your money, it’s not going to happen, sorry guys, your investment is gone.”

“How do you know he’s dead?”

And that was the million credit question, wasn’t it? If his father had debt when he died, and someone found out Ben Solo was still alive, he was the most obvious source to collect said debt from. So he braced himself and glared. “Because I killed him. And then dropped him in a reactor.”

He felt Hux stiffen next to him, surprised. A thread of thought extended into the liminal space between them, but he nudged it away, thinking _Ask later._

“You say he’s dead? That sounds like something Han Solo would do, fake his own death. Bring his own son back to fake it, even.”

Kylo shook his head as casually as he could. “Look, you can believe me or not believe me, it's not my problem. Do whatever man, you’re not my issue.”

Bala-Del was clearly furious. He rattled off a couple commands to the comm clipped to his bandolier and looked back to Kylo. “Well, you see, it is your problem. If we can’t collect from your father, you’re on the line for it."

Kylo grinned. He’d seen situations like this, even as a child. A seeming stalemate, where nobody would leave with what they wanted and people would likely die. Then again, most people operating on the far side of the law relied on actual weapons. Most of them didn’t even believe in the Force. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how this works.”

With a snarl, Bala-Del turned to Hux, whose hand was poised over the blaster at his side. Weapons rose and Bala-Del snarled, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Yeah, but you’re not me,” Hux said.

“Who’s this asshole?” He drawled and looked to Kylo. When no answer came, he turned back to Hux. “Look, a piece of advice? You don’t want to be involved with the Solos. Han Solo is a cheat, and I’m sure his son is too.”

“Was.” Kylo corrected offhand.

Bala-Del looked as though he would scream.. Hux sighed exaggeratedly, matching his tone to sound mildly annoyed, as if it were all a huge misunderstanding. “I get that, but Ben here is one of the few people I can trust.”

“Trust a Solo? Not on your life!” a gang member laughed abruptly.

_Well. I’ve had enough of this._

_You’re joking, right?_ Hux glanced at him.

“You can pay up, come peacefully, or die.”

Kylo raised his hands and continued talking. “See, none of those options sound appealing to me. I don’t have money, and I have no intention of going with you. And I’m not going to die here.”

“Look around, kid. You’re outnumbered, twenty to two.”

_Eighteen, huh?_ He could hear Hux speaking in the liminal space. _Got any great ideas on how to get out of this one?_

_I’m working on it, shut up!_

_Work faster._

_Look, you were the one with all the plans, this isn’t my…_

“Get them!"

* * *

The fight was pure chaos.

Afterwards, bits of it stood out in Kylo’s memory. He remembered using the Force to grab people and throw them, and the much more visceral sensation of using the Force to break bones. He remembered Hux taking down several of the closest of the gang members with a single shot to the head.

He remembered the exhilarating feeling of being able to unleash his power and watching Hux at his side, working in-sync and cutting down the members of the gang. Blaster bolts froze in midair

Hux took shots too close for comfort, but he had a knack for getting within his targets’ range and taking shots from mere feet away. His aim was near impeccable, but for the one time he turned too fast to keep his arm steady.

“You missed one.”

The man dropped, a burst of blood following behind him as he fell to the next shot. “Shut up.”

When they’d taken almost the entire group down, Kylo went after Bala-Del, who had disappeared among the stacks. The Force allowed him to sense the man with ease, and in the dark of the warehouse it was easy to get the drop on him.

Kylo came from above and behind, using one heavy arm to drag him to the ground before he slammed a heel into his chest and was greeted by a series of pops, the sound of ribs breaking. Bala-Del gasped for breath but wheezed when his broken ribs rejected. “Who _are_ you??!”

It shouldn’t have been so satisfying to stare the bastard down and quietly say, “Kylo Ren.”

Bala-Del’s eyes widened in horror and he looked to Hux. The realization was clear on his face, and the vicious satisfaction Kylo felt when he snapped his neck with the Force was only made sweeter with the knowledge.

* * *

When Kylo got back to the open space near the door, he found Hux with a boy whose arm was pinned behind his back. “What should we do with him?”

“Let him live.” Kylo approached, sizing the kid up, putting him at maybe 14, 15 years old. Old enough to survive, perhaps, but not old enough to really be a threat. The boy flinched back. “You go back, and you tell them: your contract with Han Solo is over. Don’t come after me, don’t try to claim it from Leia Organa. He’s dead. Let the dead be.” 

The kid ran, although how he’d make it all the way back to their headquarters on standard rations from the lone pack was beyond Kylo. If he was smart, he'd bail on them, find his own way.

* * *

They went through the gang's gear methodically, taking anything that might be of use. By the time they boarded the _Revenge_ , some of the adrenaline had worn off, just enough that the relief had set in.

Somewhere along the way, it had dawned on Hux that they’d killed a number of people to save their own hides, and he hadn’t taken it well. “Fuck. What the fuck just happened?”

Kylo tried to calm him. “No, listen. We were defending ourselves.”

“How does this not faze you? We just killed nineteen people!”

Kylo stared him down, unflinching. “Nineteen is nothing compared to war crimes.”

Hux stared back, his eyes glassing over as he realized the full implications of whatever his original crimes had been. “Oh. Oh gods.”

“It was justified. They attacked us, we defended ourselves.”

“Was…was whatever I did justified to you?”

“No.”

Hux sat in silence for several minutes and tried to compose himself.

“Sorry, but you don't have time to sit and process this. we're going to have to move fast. Somebody sold us out.” Kylo took a deep breath. “I don’t know who, and I don’t know how, but somebody sold us out.”

“What do we do?”

He took another breath. “We start by warning Elie.”

“What if she’s behind this?”

It’d been a gut feeling, but the Force seldom lied. “She meant well in all she said. I’d say she’s in the clear,” Kylo said.

* * *

After contacting Elie, they slept through a cycle and woke without a path.

They sat aboard the _Revenge_ , casually playing a game of Dejarik. Hux had gotten used to the game, as though it finally came easy to him. Kylo wasn’t all that surprised: the moves of the pieces were straightforward, the techniques and strategies varied but never boring, the computerized matches running and turning with the odds. Almost like a war game, from the Academy. No wonder Hux was good at it.

As Hux contemplated his move, Kylo leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up, scrolling through something on one of the transponders they’d looted from the run-in with the Guavian Death Gang. 

“Any leads?”

“Not promising ones,” Kylo said, frowning. “Maybe a couple of smuggling jobs, an outright burgling scheme, and something that requires ‘utmost discretion’, which I’m not keen to take on. The rest of them don’t even pay out enough to make them worth our time.”

Hux set his Kintan strider into motion and took the transponder from Kylo’s hand, flipping through the couple pages he’d pulled up. “Why don’t we give one of the smuggling gigs a try?”

His stomach gave an uncomfortable roll at the thought of his father. “Smuggling? Not really our style, is it?” Kylo asked, showing him the list.

“Doesn’t sound too bad, no worse than our usual gigs.” He snorted humorlessly. " 'Usual'. Like this is a normal thing for us." 

"How about something else?” Kylo flipped through the list, pulling a couple others. “This doesn’t sound awful, you could probably use a challenge for your Force abilities.”

Hux looked at the first job he’d pulled up. “Recon?”

“Should be doable. Worst case scenario, you could use a stunner to take him out.”

The look of realization on Hux’s face as he re-read the summary was amusing. “You have a plan?”

“Somewhat. A loose one.”

“Tell me and I’ll consider it.”

* * *

Kylo was cold. It was snowing gently and it was fucking _cold_.

As the first job to truly test Hux’s abilities, Kylo knew he should simply go along without complaint. If this was how they were going to survive, going from dirty job to dirty job for the rest of their lives, Hux needed to know how to operate on his own.

Of course, there were some things he remembered. The first time Kylo saw him pick up a weapon, there was no hesitation. He’d handled the piece with agility that Kylo should have known was unnatural, taken a shot, and shouldered the rifle in a space of seconds.

Now, of course, it all made more sense.

Kylo wasn’t sure if he hated the heat or the cold more. The stifling heat of desert planets was near unbearable in his old robes, although the less conspicuous tunics he’d taken to wearing made it much more bearable. On the other end of the spectrum, Abyssissa was cold as a carbo-freezer, even with a heavy coat. He’d had about enough.

His constant emphasis on patience seemed to have sunk in for Hux, and he regretted not listening to his own advice. Where Hux hadn’t moved for hours, Kylo had been fighting the urge to move more or less constantly. He couldn’t meditate, not with the chance of missing their target. Instead, he lay next to Hux on the ground, the both of them wrapped in their respective coats , huddled under a couple blankets, and draped with a camo sheet they’d looted from one of the members of the Guavian Death Gang.

He glanced over at Hux. His goggles were fogged with breath, the top of his hat coated in snow. A balaclava obscured most of his lower face, and all that could be seen of his skin was his nose, red and frosty from the cold.

 _What I wouldn’t give for warmth._ The thought wasn’t exactly projected, but neither was it hidden. The _Revenge_ would be warm. It had quickly become a glowing golden thought, somewhere he associated with home even though it’d been decades since he’d had a proper home.

_Warmth. Stripping out of the damp and bloody freezing clothes he was in…stripping him out of his clothes, which had to be every bit as damp and cold. A hot shower._

“Ben. Cut it out.” Hux’s voice was muffled by the mouthguard, but he could hear the exasperation.

“Problem?”

Hux shifted, finally switching up his grip on the rifle. “You’re throwing all kinds of nonsense at me. I’m trying to focus, stop it.”

“Can’t we just go hunt the bastard down?”

“No, we’re detaching ourselves from this. I don’t want to risk a more personal encounter.”

Of course Hux would want to distance himself from it. This job was really starting to get on Kylo’s nerves, and he would’ve strangled the man with his bare hands if they could just pack everything up and go back to the ship. He returned to throwing enticing ideas at Hux. _Warmth. A hot cup of caf. Blankets and the cot. My hands, all over your..._

“So help me Ben, if you don’t stop it I’m going to put the shot in your head instead. It won’t kill you but it’ll hurt like a bitch.”

“Come on, we’ve been here for hours.”

“We’re not going until we’ve completed the contract. And if you don’t get this shit on tape for proof for the client, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

“No you wouldn’t, you like my face too much.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

* * *

Three days later, the _Revenge_ was quiet with the satisfaction of a job well done. The recon hunt had gone as well as could have been hoped. Hux had nailed the target with a single stunner slug, knocking him off his feet and into a snowdrift. It’d been easy to drag him back to the ship, and by the time he came around they were headed back to the dropoff point.

It was peaceful, a feeling of near invincibility that simply couldn’t last. The Guavian Death Gang was almost certainly done with them, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others out there that had things to settle with the son of Han Solo.

That job done, they packed up and headed back to Elie’s, intending to get the last few parts now that they had cash. The comm unit was quiet, but it didn’t seem particularly unusual until they landed on the outskirts of town and saw nobody outside in the town.

They walked down the street and Kylo felt about for life forms with the Force. He found them, almost the entire community quiet and sober in the dining chamber of the local hotel.

As they walked in, nearly every set of eyes looked up at them. Some quickly looked away, some stared.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” the bartender looked them up and down, clearly agitated.

“We came back to check in with Elie, what happened?”

* * *

There was little left of her shop, no more than a skeleton of a building, covered in rubble, soot, and ash.

Somewhere amid the ruins, there were bones. The bartender had told them in a hushed voice that Elie hadn’t made it out.

For all his training, there was nothing that could have prepared Kylo for the sudden feeling of loss. It wasn’t just Elie, it was all the people he’d known and killed, his father one of dozens. 

Without Snoke to take the blame, it landed square on his shoulders and sent him to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to betweenheroesandvillains, who continues to be my beta and kicks my ass.
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr at versus-a-blank-paper.tumblr.com
> 
> Corrections, questions, and comments are always welcome!


	7. Redox: Reduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Officially, this is Chapter 6, Part 1
> 
> Part 2 to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks in advance for your patience, guys. It's been awhile, and I promise I still love you guys.

In the corner of his field of vision, Genesis saw Ben drop. It wasn’t a graceful fall, rather like a collapsing building. He stared at the ash and ruins with wide eyes.

“Ben. Ben, come on. We need to go.”

“It was the First Order, you know.” One of the townspeople said from behind them. “Whatever you two brought with you, the Order followed. They were searching for you and found Elie instead.”

“What have we done?” Ben’s words were quiet. Genesis was obliquely grateful the gathering crowd was still too far to hear him.

Still, they grew closer and louder. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“She’s dead and it’s your fault.”

“You should be dead, not her.”

Genesis eyed the townspeople nervously, then looked back to Ben. “Now isn’t the time to ask that, right now we need to go.”

“This is my fault.”

“No it’s not, now let’s move.” He grabbed Ben’s shoulder and hauled him to his feet, pulling him along in a daze, back toward the outskirts of town and the _Revenge_.

* * *

On board the _Revenge_ , Ben seemed lost. Genesis sat him down on one of the slumped chairs, the softer upholstered one with too much stuffing. Reaching out with the Force into the place between them, Genesis found little more than static and blur from Ben’s end.

“Tea. How about some tea?”

No response. Ben seemed to have retreated into himself. He looked straight ahead, his gaze glassy. Genesis set about setting water on to boil. Once it was set and started steeping, he prodded Ben until he climbed to his feet, then guided him toward the bunkroom.

A heavy blanket wrapped about his wide shoulders seemed to ground him somewhat. It was enough to bring Ben’s thoughts back on line, the haze and static as his end of the mental channel clearing. There was a dark look in his eyes, dull and pained. “Elie is dead, and it’s my fault.”

“Ben, it’s not your…”

His jaw tightened and he appeared to fight with himself for a moment before shaking his head and forcing himself onward. “Look, I know I haven’t explained much. But the Order is after us, and they’ll continue to come after us. If we stay still, we die, and if we don’t, they’ll go after the people we leave behind. They never would have found her if we hadn’t led them to her.”

Genesis stilled, trying to think of something to comfort him and coming up blank. Ben was a wire pulled taut, and when nothing came he leaned forward, bracing his forehead against Genesis’s lower ribs and pulling him forward, clutching at him and trying to anchor himself. “There’s so much blood on our hands.”

“Then you do something. You do something to try to fix it, or to…even it out.”

Ben loosened his grip and looked up at him, his eyes dark. Something about the way Ben held him and the vibration of his voice sent an ill-timed flare of want through Genesis’s stomach. “You make it sound easy.”

“It wouldn’t be easy, otherwise it’d never make up for…what we’ve done.”

Ben made an aggravated noise into his skin. “You make it sound straightforward. Adopt all the orphans, give money to charity, feed the starving animals, do some good in the galaxy and it’ll all be alright,” he said bitterly.

The ‘ding’ of the timer from the galley was unsettling. Genesis pried himself free of Ben’s grip and went to go get the tea, leaving him sitting on the cot.

The mugs in his hands shook ever so slightly as he picked them up, and he put them back on the counter, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself. The gut-wrenching feeling he’d gotten from Ben’s line of thought faded slowly, and he tried to put an argument together, one he could stand behind. The cloud of emotion that hung over Ben was angry and dark, but more than that, it was frighteningly hopeless.

And hope…hope was all that was keeping them going.

He returned to the bunkroom with the mugs and fixed Ben with a stare. “Look, I don’t know what I’ve done, but I know I have blood on my hands. So do you. So…maybe we just…go forward and try to fix what we can, and we deal with the fact that we ultimately can’t fix it. But you can’t fault me for wanting to do more good than bad.” Genesis felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, although he wasn’t sure if it was his own emotion or Ben’s. “The galaxy seems like a pretty shit place.”

“It is.” Ben took a careful sip from the mug pressed into his hands. “We’re evidence of that.” They sat in silence again, drinking tea. Ben seemed more inclined to stare at and hold the warm mug than to drink it, his hands far too large for the handle. As soon as Genesis finished his and put the mug on the side table, Ben followed suit before wrapping one arm around him and pulling him down to the cot.

Emotions swirled in the liminal space between them. _Fear, hope, anxiety, anger_. Even a sense of affection that neither of them would ever be accountable for, but that neither could quite ignore. 

Like that, curled up with Ben, it was almost alright. It felt like maybe they weren’t huge fuck-ups. There was a chance, slim, but still there. It hurt, to admit that maybe there wasn’t any sort of cosmic karma that might absolve him of his wrongs if he did enough to balance them out.

“You’re angry with me.” Ben shifted, pressing himself closer.

“No.” 

“What then?”

Genesis struggled to put it into words, but he settled for, “You…feel so hopeless.”

“Then close the connection so you don't have to feel it.” Ben gave him a glare, but it softened when Genesis shook his head and refused, not wanting to leave him entirely alone in his own head. Ben sighed. “Fine. Not hopeless. Practical. You’ve got dreams of being a…a good person. And that’s someone I can’t be.”

“Bullshit.”

Ben snorted and pulled him to his chest, tucking his chin into his shoulder. “What you want, it’s an impossible thing. Nobody is that good.”

“Nobody’s all bad, either.”

Ben fell silent, and the stillness and warmth and the low hum of the planetside generator lulled Genesis into a doze. He was nearly out when Ben mumbled into the back of his neck. “Nothing is entirely dark or light, or…good or bad. Everything is grey.”

* * *

By the time Genesis returned to the galley several hours later, he carried his own empty mug and Ben’s mug of tea, cold and horribly oversteeped.

He glanced back to the bunkroom, where Ben was asleep and hopefully would continue to sleep for some time. He thought about what needed to be done for the reinstallation of the hyperlight drive operation system's coolant scheme and how tempting it was to go curl up again with Ben.

Digging about in the underbelly of the _Revenge_ or sleep and the comfort of a warm, inviting body?

Genesis sighed, dumped sweetener in the remaining tea, reheated it, and drank it anyway.

* * *

Several hours later, Genesis climbed out of the sonic shower, pleasantly clean of grease and grime. The hyperlight drive was responding to primary diagnostics positively and he was done with repairs for the day. 

Ben still lay under the blankets, his face blessedly blank. Genesis wondered how old Ben really was. Like this, he looked younger, almost soft. He woke just enough to shift and curl around Genesis as he climbed into the cot.

Even though he lay awake staring up at the bulkhead, there was something comforting about Ben’s presence. Still, it was soured by the sneaking suspicion underneath that it was too good to last.

* * *

When he woke the next day, the warmth under the blankets was no longer pleasant, but uncomfortable and sticky with sweat. He peeled himself away from Ben’s too-hot chest, leaving him seemingly dead to the world. Not for the first time, Genesis wondered how much he’d been shorting himself on sleep, running from the ghosts in his head.

Logically, he knew he ought to get up. Something in him was screaming to get up and get a cup of caf to start the day. And yet…why? What was so urgent he needed to get up immediately?

The answer slowly came in the form of a mild throbbing headache. Caf called to him, the tar-like sludgy feeling of sleep clinging to him as he padded to the kitchen in nothing but flannel pants. He started the caf-maker and went to the 'fresher, washing the sleep from his eyes and combing his beard into some semblance of order. The rich scent of the brew quickly filled the air and he returned to the galley, where KL-23 tapped on the floor, climbing onto one of the chairs and waiting for him.

[It is a new day] it whistled excitedly. [What will Mender do today?]

[Not now. It’s too early.]

[Did Mender not recharge properly?]

Genesis gave the droid an affectionate pat. [Not quite.]

Ten minutes later, he climbed back into the warm cot, putting a mug of hot caf on the nearby table. He sat in bed with his legs tucked under the warmth of the blanket as he filed through the list of jobs on the datapad they’d taken off one of the members of the Guavian Death Gang. None of them were particularly legal, although some involved rather less murder and more mayhem or information gathering. 

He could feel through the mental link when Ben woke, surfacing from sleep to soft screen light and the smell of caf. He flicked through the list and the requests for some time before Ben’s sleep-heavy arm wrapped about his stomach. He rubbed the blur from his eyes and there was a wave of affection that permeated the liminal space as he looked at Genesis, who made a vague motion with the datapad. “Want to help me pick something?”

Ben’s breath huffed against his shoulder and dark eyes looked up at him, warmer than usual. “What are you thinking?”

“Well…without Elie, it seems we’re on our own,” a fresh wave of pain overflowed from Ben’s mind, “so if we want jobs, we’re going to have to build our own network. I’m not adverse to snagging jobs from the Guavian Death Gang or whatever network they use until we’ve got one, though.”

“You just don’t stop, do you?”

“You said it yourself yesterday. If we stay still, we die. Best case scenario, if we stay still, you angst your way through life and I die of boredom. Distraction would suit the both of us.” Genesis held the datapad out. “Take a look at this one, that looks promising. Sources for a lifeform trafficking ring. Decent pay, and whoever put the job up is looking for location information to break up the ring.”

“Slaves? You think we can break up some ring with information and just fix everything?” Ben twisted, wrapping about his legs and pushing his face into Genesis’s stomach like an overgrown canine. “Oh. You’re looking at the jobs where the victim is a less-than-stellar person. Conscience driven jobs.” Ben sighed into his skin, breath hot. “Fine. You choose this time. I don’t quite trust myself yet.”

* * *

The job Genesis picked out required the recovery of information. The details of who and where were fairly straightforward, if vague about what information they were to retrieve. ‘Location details from a man that had been chipped and disappeared from the grid, involved in a human and humanoid trafficking ring’ was the extent of the information the job gave, although it also gave the approximate location. Supposedly, the informant, a human male by the name of Erlan Parr, had been last seen on Orathanx II, a remote planet in the Outer Rim, barely worth noting on a starmap. Not much to go on, but not as difficult as it could have been. 

That is, until they found their informant while scouring the holonet and found out the he had gotten himself locked up in some half-rate prison like a damn fool.

They sat on the boarding ramp of the _Revenge_ in an empty field on Orathanx II, not far outside of Ches’kertan, the town they’d tracked Parr’s record to. KL-23 occupied itself by scuttling around the ship in circles as they discussed their next move. Or Genesis talked, and Ben sat in the cool dawn, still wrapped in the blanket from the cot. “I say we start by going into town and seeing what we can dig up beyond the information we’ve already got.”

Ben looked over at him with oddly mournful eyes. “Yeah. That sounds fine.”

* * *

A couple hours later, Genesis found himself talking to Lhash Rav, a grizzled old man who claimed to be a trapper and retired miner, over a couple mugs of something that was the local approximation of beer, although it tasted like little more than millet ground up and dumped in water. The food was something dumped in an industrial-size pan and baked, protein and carbohydrates and stars knew what else. Ben sat on the bar stool next to him, sipping the drink with evident enjoyment.

The bartender had given Genesis a bloodthirsty grin when he’d asked after their target. “Parr? Oi, Lhash, ain’t that the one they’re gonna execute this week? The slaver who took the Townmistress’s granddaughter?”

“Yup, that’s the one.” The crotchety old trapper had been trailed by a massive beast, shanks as high as his hip. He introduced himself as the bartender continued with her work, flashing a full smile to each customer.

They plied the old man with beer, although it didn’t do much. Lhash didn’t know much about the prison system, having narrowly avoided a stay there himself, but the general info he had about the local culture was useful. “Yeah, there’s a lot of screamers, ‘specially in the badlands up north of town. They’re not easy to get along with, but every once in awhile we get one of ‘em wandering in here, all injured like.” He waved his hand at the massive thing at his side. “Like ol’ Hugh here. Laziest bastard you’ve ever seen, but he packed a punch when he first rambled into town.” He grinned and nudged beast with his foot. “Got messed up by one of the others, jaw hangin’ half off.”

Genesis looked at the thing warily. Ben seemed to find it nearly as amusing as Lhash. “Here, you wanna pet him? He’s a big ol’ softie.”

The screamer looked at him and yawned, baring its teeth and opening its jaw wide enough to consume an entire human head in one bite. “No thank you.”

Ben stepped in, tossing the screamer a chunk of something from his bowl. “On a rather more serious note, is there anywhere we can rent a speeder?”

* * *

The speeder wasn’t exactly a technological marvel, an old, outdated model nearly thirty years old. The repulsors were garbage and Genesis ‘tch’ed at it as he fired it up. The trapper had given them his radio signal comlink callsign and seen them off with a, “You gents call if you need anything, Lhash’s your man.” 

They’d gone back to the _Revenge_ to prepare a few things, then waited until darkness fell. Now, Genesis found himself braced under a high window, supporting Ben’s weight on his shoulders as he jimmied the window latch from the outside. Over the past months, Genesis had put on more muscle than he could ever remember, but that wasn’t saying much. He still felt like his legs were going to snap like dry pasta under Ben’s weight. “I fucking hate you.”

Ben grinned. “Not yet you don’t, but you’re going to.”

“What, you have a plan to get us in an even worse situation?”

“Not exactly a plan, per se. But things are probably going to get worse before we’re done.”

“Worse than having a heavy asshole sitting on my shoulders and trying to pick a shitty outdated lock? Wouldn't it just be easier to cut it? And I thought we were just trying to get up to the rooftops to scope things out.”

Ben leaned back to grin at him, nearly knocking him off balance. “How do you feel about heights?”

He steadied himself and groaned. “What’s the plan?”

* * *

Genesis hung from the rooftop precariously, the harness looped about his hips leaving the toes on his right foot tingling with pins and needles. 

He thought back twenty minutes to Ben’s sheepish admission. “We’re going to have to get into the main block somehow, even once we pop the window and get onto the rooftops of the external block. I’m thinking our best bet is to make our way to the roof from the external block and drop down to the windows of the main block.”

“And you have a way to do that?”

“Gear’s in my pack. Shouldn’t be too bad…so long as you’re not afraid of heights.”

Genesis wasn’t afraid of heights, but hanging from the rooftop by little more than a rope and a prayer still made him uncomfortable. He walked his feet down the wall as the line gave him space to move, navigating toward the window they’d recorded as Parr’s. The rope slacked just a bit and he jolted slightly downward, sighing with relief when the knotted loops Ben controlled up above caught again. “Remember how I said I hated you earlier?”

“Mmhmm.” Ben’s voice was mildly strained as he held the lines and kept them in control.

“I lied. That wasn’t hate. That was moderate dislike. _Now_ I hate you.”

* * *

Genesis rolled through the window, breathing a sigh of relief once he was past the deactivated laser sensors that ordinarily kept the window inaccessible.

He immediately found himself in a headlock, held by a scrawny arm locked about his throat. “Who the hell are you?”

“Here to…break you…out.” The words scraped through his compressed throat and he was relieved to find the grip on his neck loosen.

“Why’re you trying to break me out?” 

“Because you’ve got some information we need. It seems like a pretty fair exchange: you give us the info we’re looking for and we break you out so you don’t have to face the noose tomorrow.” Genesis gave him a wry look. “And really? They still publicly execute people in this backwater dump?”

“They don’t want t’ waste shot on criminals is what they say, but it’s so they can sit around and watch ‘em die. And they ain’t gonna hang me, they’re gonna quarter me. Not much by way of entertainment in a town like this,” Parr mumbled. He was a wiry-looking middle-aged man, although on second glance, he was clearly half-human. His skin was olive, his hair slightly darker, but his eyes were an unnerving, inhuman gold.

“Uncivilized swine.” Genesis made a face as he lied through his teeth. This man was in trafficking, and it was disturbing how easily evil could hide in plain sight. “Well. You’ve got one chance to live, and it’s coming with me. I’ll even break you out first as a…sign of good faith.”

* * *

The bonegnawers circled slowly overhead, wheeling lazily on the updraft of the early dawn sun’s rising heat. The Trackers could see them from several clicks away, dark silhouettes against the lightening sky.

“Oi, Janic.” A female Rodian Tracer, unusually pale, pointed off in the distance at them, squinting against the rising light. “Think it’s him?”

“Bastard couldn’t have gone too far. Must've been dead a bit if the bonegnawers already found him.” Tracer Khersh shook his head. They’d gone out after Parr, intending to bring him back if they could find him.

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted those two.”

“We’ll wait to see if it’s Parr, then we’ll make some decisions.”

It was Parr, or what was left of him. Bits, here and there, although most of the small viscera had been pilfered by bonegnashers. The only bit that was still intact was a lower leg, mostly stripped of muscle but cuffed by the ankle to an old fencepost. It hadn’t occurred to them that the two strangers in town might have broken him out of prison only to kill him.

“Screamers.”

“Motherfuckers.” Janic hissed, his mouth twisting with distaste.

“So.” Vica heaved a breath once she’d finished pulling herself back together. “The redhead said they had their ways of getting information from people. My guess is, he got whatever they needed and finished him off.” She spit on the ground in distaste. “We gotta go after ‘em?”

Janic stared into the distance, after the tracks. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “No. We let them go.”

“I mean, they killed a bloke.”

“We were gonna quarter him today anyway. They just saved us some money on the street cleaner’s fee. And they didn't kill him, the screamers did.”

The silence stretched. “You sure? They could've cut his throat first.”

“Does it really matter?” Janic peered into the horizon, swearing he could see shapes, but no, it was just the heat on the sand. “Yeah. We let them go.”

“Is that really how the law’s supposed to work?” She turned to him, her expression becoming more severe. 

“No, but we don’t have the resources for a cross-country or potentially cross-planet chase. We let them go, and we hope that if they’re actually shit people, some overall cosmic force brings hell down on them.”

She was quiet for a minute. “They really didn’t seem too bad. I mean. Other than killing Parr.”

“No. No, they didn’t. I think they’re a lot like us, just trying to find their place in the galaxy.” His smile was faint. “Besides, they probably didn’t kill him, that would’ve been a mercy.”

There was a long silence between them, and then Janic at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Poor sod. Screamers is almost worse than quartering.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I heard they leave you alive while they gut you.”

Vica shook her head. “Nah, they go for a quick kill. Quartering kills you slow. You really think being alive that long is better than having your throat ripped out by a screamer?”

Janic fell quiet again, contemplating the blood smeared in the dust. He sighed. “Right. We’ll get a coroner out here and file that report and be done with it.”

* * *

Ben and Genesis followed the information they’d gotten from Parr before leaving him cuffed to a post to hunt down the next informants they needed. It took nearly a week to track Xagha and Nu-jan Thropp down, even with access to the planet’s holonet.

Finding them was time consuming, but almost easy.

Confronting them wasn’t.

“Move!” Ben flung a hand out and reached for the Force. A slab of metal came hurtling toward him, fast enough to provide cover as Ben shoved Genesis behind the remains of a wrecked shuttle, burned out and half-full of sand and dust.

“What the hell?” Genesis snapped as he flicked the safety off on his blaster. “You can move things telekinetically?”

“It’s the Force!”

“The Force my ass, when were you going to tell me?”

“I figured you’d seen it in my head!” Ben’s hands went up as he tried to claim innocence, but he had to drop them as he dodged behind rubble for cover. "And I did tell you it was possible, just not that I could do it!"

Genesis shook his head. “Remind me to yell at you again later. I’ll go at them outright if you give me cover and flank them.”

Ben grimaced. “Why can’t I do that, it’s more dangerous for you.”

“Too bad, we’re doing it because they think you’re unarmed, now move!”

Genesis threw himself from cover toward the next wretched chunk of the shuttle, hearing the sound of blaster fire following as he moved. He dropped low, peering through the wasted metal scraps, hoping to get eyes on the assailants.

One at his two o’clock was easy to find, but the other remained invisible. Reluctantly, he reached for the Force, trying to focus the way Ben had taught him to.

 _Someone at his two o’clock, Ben at his eleven o’clock, and_ …he reached, searching… _someone bearing down on him fast from six o’clock…_

He whipped around to a series of shrill beeps and a shout of, “What the fuck?”, then blaster fire. Genesis’s heart leapt to his throat and he rose, opening fire as he did. It was almost surreal, the way he moved toward Xagha, unstoppable as a tide coming in. He could hear Ben, somewhere in the dust, yelling for him. Maybe he was in his head. It didn’t matter, the words were a blur, the desperate tone of his voice was nothing, the fear that echoed through the link seeming to fall away in the face of an enemy he could see.

There was the heat of a blaster bolt on his side, passing through his jacket but only just grazing his skin. It seemed to light him up, a brighter burst of adrenaline pulsing through him like flash-fire and powering him forward even faster.

He ran and held on target, adapting as he moved. The straightforward accuracy of his aim was like breathing clean air, the first time going planetside after a long time on a ship. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. It was easy, it was natural. The blaster was an extension of his arm and he knew precisely where he would hit his target.

A shot to each leg took Xagha down, sending him sprawling in the dust. Lightning fast, before he could react, Genesis stomped on his wrist and kicked the blaster out of his splayed hand.

“Stand down!” he snapped at the man, unsure where the command came from. He turned to try and find Ben, only to spot him walking from the other ruined transport with the woman, Nu-jan, her arms pinned up behind her back and forcing her to bend as she walked. “Got her?”

“She’s slippery, but yes. And for the record, you’re an idiot.” Ben shook his head. “That was stupid.”

“Where’s my droid?” Genesis looked at the two prisoners. “I heard it, where is it?”

“Fuck your droid!” Nu-jan spit in the dust. “Nosy piece of shit nearly got us killed!”

“Where. Is. My. Droid.”

“I don’t fucking know!”

Ben pushed her to her knees next to Xagha. “Go find Kayell, I’ll take care of them for now. He doesn’t look like he’s going much of anywhere.”

With a final glare at Nu-jan, Genesis turned and went toward where he thought he’d heard the beeping from, picking up the abandoned blaster as he went.

When he finally found it, KL-23 was silent, its casement blasted open, its fresh new paint riddled with blaster-holes. Genesis popped the remaining half of the casement hatch open, taking a good look at the internal damage before quickly attempting to re-route the droid’s main power source.

It came back to life with a shrill whistle that skipped a couple times before sounding properly. He could hear the servos starting up as KL-23 ran diagnostics, and he picked it up as his chest clenched and wouldn’t let go. He took in its broken casement for a moment, stroking the still-intact part as though he could comfort it. After a couple long minutes of trying to reboot, it made a pathetic noise of distress and shut down again.

Sheer cold rage snapped him to attention as he marched back to the prisoners, sitting where Ben had tied them up. He put KL-23’s casement down, his heart wrenching as it slumped to the ground with limp limbs. Heat burned behind his eyes and he let the anger fly, turning to look at the couple on the ground. “You hurt my droid.”

“No, wait.” Ben held out his arm to stop him, an odd look about him. “Let me handle this. Go see to Kayell.”

“There’s nothing to be done. I’d rather watch you take them apart.”

Ben fell still, looking at him uncertainly and trying to probe his mood through the liminal space. Genesis put a wall up and threw him back without a second thought, focusing all his fury on the two prisoners on the ground. The man shivered as if he knew they were in over their heads, but the woman at his back stared up at Ben with cold, hateful eyes. "We won't tell you anything."

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t need you to tell me anything. I can get what I need directly from you.” Ben sighed, shrugging as he returned his attention to them. “I need information, locations. We had an informant that said you have trackers, and trackers won’t lie about where you’ve been. Sampling should give us all the info we need about what you’ve been exposed to.” 

“Who told you we have trackers? They’re lying.”

“Erlan Parr. And it doesn’t matter if he’s lying, he’s dead.”

He knelt down and the man looked at him fearfully. Under any ordinary circumstances, the knife in Ben's hand would have been little threat, but there was something strange and frightening about Ben’s eyes. Even in the bright light, they seemed to suck up any light that fell on them, dark pits of night in broad daylight. 

The knife in his hand wasn’t much, a three inch straightblade with a worn handle of something they couldn’t see. Nu-jan looked up at him. “I told you, we won’t talk. They’ll kill us if we talk.”

“And I told you, I don’t need you to.” He pulled Xagha’s arm forward from where it had been limp at his side and pawed at it, pressing down on his forearm until he finally located a solid mass settled into the meat just below his elbow. “And you think I’ll kill you? With what you’ve done, me killing you would be a mercy. A single blaster bolt to the head is nothing on what’s coming for you.”

Genesis watched with a vague sense of triumph as the sheer bloody fury ebbed away in the face of their fear. Ben sliced through a solid inch of flesh, keeping his thumb pressed above the wound to pinpoint the lump. The knife he’d been holding was discarded on the ground, and pair of needle-nose pliers were produced from the pocket on his thigh. He squeezed the man’s arm tight, the blood flowing out quickly but not quick enough to be fatal.

With a minute or two of careful maneuvering, he finally clamped on the thing he’d been probing for and slowly eased it free, moving carefully and taking note of the man’s reaction. The tracking pod came out, covered in blood and clamped in pliers that were mercifully free of tissue, but not blood. He wiped it on the man’s shirt and slipped it into a pouch on his belt.

He turned to Nu-Jan, who shied away and shoved her arm behind her back. “You won’t get mine, I won’t let you have it.”

Ben sighed. “I don’t actually need yours, seeing as I have all the information I need right here.” He pointed to the pod. “Still, now that you mention it…”

“Goddamn it!” the man burst.

“It’s not my fault!”

“Shut up!”

Ben chuckled, a mild sound that turned dark in the ears of the two captives. “Right, you two can keep up the bickering all you want, but it’ll be easiest on both of you if you let me take the other tracker.”

“But you said…!”

“Think of it this way: we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and you’ve given someone critical location information. Do you really want them coming to find you?” He crouched, kneading the woman’s forearm and trying to pinpoint the capsule. “I’m almost doing you a favor, taking both.”

She sobbed as he pulled his knife, slicing into muscle with little mercy. The man watched but held his tongue as Ben wiped his knife on her dress and shoved it back in the sheath, fishing about with the pliers until he found what he was looking for. It seemed he was rather less gentle than he’d been with the first tracker, but before long the metal tips emerged holding his prize, which he wiped on the woman’s dress and slipped into the pouch with the first. When he was done, she sighed with relief. “You’re gonna let us live?”

“Yes.” He stood, wiping the pliers and slipping them into a separate pocket. “Although to be honest, I was going to leave you for the screamers. It’s no better than you deserve.”

“YOU TREACHEROUS MOTHERFUCKER!” she shrieked.

“SHUT UP!” Xagha snapped back.

Genesis stood aside, but as Ben finished up with the second tracker, he picked KL-23 back up, retrieving the few bits that fell free of the droid from the dust. The anger he’d shoved down resurfaced with a vengeance, so he walked to Ben and made a show of whispering in his ear, relishing in the look of terror on their captives’ faces. “We can leave them, it’s no better than they deserve, but give them a bit of hope.”

Ben started, then looked at him with surprise and reached into the place between their minds. _Are you certain?_

_Trafficking? They deserve no better._

_That's a change of tone._

_It's not like you care._

Ben shrugged, muttered something darkly, then returned to the captives. “He thinks I should give you a fighting chance. He thinks you deserve a shot at life, and that if you somehow survive you’ll be grateful.” He snorted and started patting the man down. “I disagree, but I’m willing to humor him. Got a knife? Cause I’m sure as hell not giving you one of mine.”

“In my boot.”

“Eesh.” Ben pulled the knife from the aforementioned boot and grimaced with distaste before handing it to Nu-Jan. “Alright, I’m going to put this in your capable hands ma’am, and if you can cut through your ropes, you should be away before the screamers arrive. Not too far, but you could likely be far enough, they’re territorial. Your gentleman friend here, on the other hand, doesn’t get a knife. You can get away, or you can stay and try to rescue him, although I don’t know that you’ll get out alive if you do, he’s got two busted legs, he’s not going anywhere fast. Still, only right to give you a chance.”

As he walked away, the woman started shouting obscenities at his back, but he didn’t slow. As he climbed on the speeder, Genesis shot him a glare. “How long do you think they have?”

“An hour, maybe.” Ben gave him a vicious grin in response.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY YOU...!?”

“We were talking about how long you’ve got before the screamers get here. And hour, maybe?”

“You’re murderous bastards you fucking…”

“Ah ah, so are you. And we have the one thing you don’t: standards. Maybe not morals, but we’ve got standards. And those standards are above trafficking children. Apparently.” He nodded to Genesis and they took off on the speeder, not looking back even as obscenities were screamed at their backs.

* * *

As they sat around the fire eating, the conversation was fairly dead. There wasn’t much more to talk about, and it was mostly just Genesis running through the damage done to KL-23 between bites of food. Ben looked down at the datapad, checking that they’d gotten all the data the job requested. “We should have everything we need, we should double check it and then head back toward Ches’kertan. I’d like to get the bounty verified and sent in as soon as possible, but we’re going to have to stay clear of the town. Drop the speeder off and get out of town before they can detain us and ask about Parr.”

“If we can find a shop or whatever, I need to pick up some things to fix Kayell.”

“We can probably just find another protocol droid, that one is…” he hesitated, “shot, no pun intended. It’s hardly even worth fixing, it’s just a lump of scrap at this point.”

Genesis fell silent, his stomach turning. Bile rose, and he put his food down . “You don’t…you don’t throw something you like away just because it’s broken. You try to fix it.” 

The sudden silence between them gaped like the void of space. Ben stared at him for a moment, something strange in his expression. Before Genesis could ask what was wrong, Ben was gone, sweeping away into the darkness.

Without Ben, the silence seemed to creep into his head. Nervous energy seemed to pulse under his skin, agitation pushing him to his feet as well. He paced as he finished eating, knowing that something, somewhere, wasn’t right. He’d upset Ben, even if he didn’t know how. 

He unrolled his sleeping pad and cleared a fairly comfortable space on the ground. When Ben came back, stalking from the shadows like he was part of them, he went to sleep.

* * *

“Shit.”

Daylight glared horribly, still too much for an exhausted mind. Genesis had barely slept, sick with worry until he’d heard Ben come back. Even then, he’d struggled to sleep. The absence of KL-23’s normal sounds echoed.

“What’s wrong?”

“The GPS is out.” Ben grimaced, giving the speeder’s dash a thump. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Want me to see what I can do?”

“You can take a look, but I don’t think it’s going to change anything.”

Five minutes of tinkering with the GPS proved Ben right. It became clear that they sat in the middle of nowhere, with a semi-functional speeder and no idea what direction to go. Genesis glared at the speeder irritably. “Thoughts?”

Ben sighed. “We could always try to comm Lhash.”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. Bet you that screamer of his could track us out here.”

Genesis threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine! Call him! But so help me, if he’s just as useless as this speeder I’ll…”

“Relax, it’ll be fine.” Ben thumbed the comm distractedly, trying to set the proper frequency. 

“This plan is as half-baked as that shitty bar food.”

“It wasn’t that bad, shush.”

* * *

Four hours later, Lhash came trotting up on a collapsible sled pulled by the hulking screamer. He was amiable and a bit smug.

“Look, I told y’all I can help y’all for the right price. You just so happened to be lucky I was in range. Shell out credits and I’m more than happy to guide you back. Otherwise, I’m going to keep heading west and you’ll get progressively more screwed if you follow me.”

“Fine, you old crook.” Ben grumbled.

“Excellent. Now, about that speeder…you boys are wanted in town, so here’s what I’ll do. You leave it here, I’ll take you back and around town through the shortcut between the plates and we can just walk the whole way, and everyone will be happy. You won’t get caught by the law, Korrian will get his speeder back, and I’ll get paid by you two idiots as well as Korrian. Everybody’s happy.”

Genesis sighed. “How do we know you won’t just steal it?”

“What am I gonna do with a speeder that ain’t mine? Everyone in town knows whose it is.”

They looked at each other, then back at Lhash, who grinned. Ben shook his head. “Fine. Payment upon arrival.”

“Half now, half on arrival.”

“Deal.”

Lhash grinned like a child on their birthday. “Let’s get going.”

* * *

Several hours later, they found themselves looking into a valley that looked like death. They’d navigated a number of fissures and cracks, a field that Lhash promised was a shortcut to anyone that could make it across. They’d been formed by millennia of separating continental plates, he claimed, and it was a massive maze.

They’d made their way down to the bottom of a crevasse, one Lhash said was the last bit of the shortcut, really just a gateway to the plains on the east side of town. The fissure gaped ahead, a scraggle-toothed maw between the plateaus and rocks that seemed to beckon to them. 

Genesis looked at it apprehensively, shifting his pack on his back. KL-23 wasn’t heavy, but it was awkward to carry strapped to his pack. "You really think this is the easiest path?"

Lhash shrugged. "Well, it used to be. Can't promise it's still clear. There used to be a deal, there's a small toll at the end, the Keepers are pretty relaxed. They let people barter as well, rather than just paying in cash. For awhile they preferred gear, actually,” he mused. "We prob’ly have enough gear to trade, although if they'll take a bit of cash I'd prefer that. At least we won't have to restock the both of y’all at the next post."

"They just...let people through?"

The old timer seemed surprised. "Well yeah. It's a fairly cushy, defensible position. They don't have to be assholes about it. Besides, if they were, they'd scare off all the people that are willing to put up with them. If I knew it was bad enough, we'd trek around and it’d add another four days. As it is, we'll chop that time off your trip, they'll get what they need, and we'll all walk away fairly happy."

Genesis felt his skin crawl as he followed him into the valley. Ben brought up the rear of the group, lighter on his feet than his size would suggest and quieter. Still, it wasn't much of an advantage. They wanted to make some noise, so they would have an idea that they were there. If they snuck up on the Keepers they would likely panic and try to shoot them.

The air was dry and still, as if settled between the stone walls for a long time. Bits of broken stone cracked and scraped underfoot pieces weathered from the walls and left to the ages. Genesis followed Lhash for some time, senses alert as he listened for any sign of the Keepers.

"Um..." Ben hummed behind them.

There was a long moment of silence as Lhash waited for Ben to finish, but nothing followed. "What's up?"

"Were the Keepers...humanoid?"

"Yeah, why?"

"So they didn't eat people, just killed them if they couldn't pay?"

"Right."

"Well, I don't think we'll need to pay." Genesis turned to find Ben looking at a dry brownish stain on the ground, with bits of chewed leather nearby, partially covered in dust.

"Ah...right, I'll check." Moving hesitantly toward the leather, Lhash nudged it aside with his boot and found that it was still stuck to something. It was fairly easy to move, and as he grasped it, it came free with a jolt. 

Genesis’s stomach turned with disgust as broken bones held together with dried connective tissue came free of the dust, encased in what turned out to be a leather sleeve, well chewed.

"Right, something fairly large got them. Looks like screamers to me." Lhash grumbled. “Probably not around anymore, what with their prey gone, but we ought to keep a careful eye out.” He glared at Hugh. “Your kin did a number on those poor sods.” The beast yipped and snarled anxiously in response.

"Great," Genesis sighed. "This path was a terrible idea."

"The other way would have had us riding for days!"

"Better that than dead." A lone howl echoed from somewhere up the valley, bouncing in a way that made it impossible to pinpoint. Lhash spun to look, blood draining from his face.

"Alright, you may have a point,” Ben conceded.

“Do we turn around? Call to town for backup?”

The air of false confidence Lhash put on wasn’t reassuring. “Nah, we’ll be fine. If it gets too close we’ll try to give them a shout out, but otherwise I’d say we don’t need to worry them.” Lhash shrugged. “Besides, no backup is coming for us out here.” A sharp yip split the air, a sharp noise that seemed to pierce the stillness. Silence fell again and Lhash shrugged. “Sounds like a loner. We can handle it.”

There was another singular yip, a moment of silence again, and then a chorus of howls and screams. “Shit.” Lhash spit. “You boys know what to do when you’re stalked by a pack?”

“What?”

“Run!” He took off down the valley, Hugh at his heels. Ben and Genesis glanced at each other and then sprinted after him.

The sound of the pack behind them only escalated as they ran, peaking as one of them caught Lhash by the leg. He screamed as he fell, and although Hugh fought back, they were quickly swarmed.

For a moment, Genesis slowed, until Ben grabbed his wrist and dragged him away. “We can’t stop for him!”

“Can we try to comm backup from town now?” Genesis shouted as he ran, one step behind.

“Shut up and run! We’ll worry about ourselves!” They sprinted through the valley, a lone pair of screamers that had broken off from the rest of the pack hot on their heels. Ducking into a wide fissure did little to lose the beasts, and only made running more difficult with the fallen rock.

“Shit, move, move!” Ben shoved him aside as one of the screamers lunged.

It caught him by the calf, digging teeth into the meat and locking down. Ben stumbled, slowed just enough for the other screamer to leap and catch him by the arm. 

The time between the moment Ben was bitten and Genesis’s first shot was a fraction of a second, yet the screamers had locked their jaws tight. Genesis slammed half a dozen shots into the base of the first beast’s skull without hesitation, nailing it over and over until it released its hold and dropped to the ground. The one that caught Ben’s arm tried to drag him to the ground, ripping at his wrist.

With his attention on a single beast, Ben screamed back at the thing, animalistic and raw. His hand seemed to spark and dance with green light and when he slammed his hand into the screamer’s face, there was a sudden stench of burning fur and scorched meat. It seized and let go, barely keeping its feet until Ben reached out to the Force and wrenched its neck, snapping it and killing the beast.

Ben stumbled into the wall of the fissure, panting and smearing blood across the stone. He gritted his teeth and looked at the sky, breath heaving. Pain seeped through the Force-link, stinging and spiking up through Genesis’s arm enough to make his eyes water.

“Ben.” Genesis watched blood drip down the rocks and puddle for a moment before seeping into the dust. His eyes followed the trail up to find the bloody mess of exposed bone and gristle that the screamer had made of his hand and arm, stemmed slightly by Ben’s clenched grip just above the wound. “Stay with me.”

“Stem the bleeding and we keep moving.” Color leeched from Ben’s face as he spoke, still staring at the sky.

That was all it took to spur Genesis into action. He dug into his bag and pulled out a length of climbing rope, moving quickly to secure it about the crook of Ben’s elbow in an effort to stem the bleeding. The next thing out of his pack was a spare shirt, torn open to make it easier to wrap and staunch the blood.

If Genesis had avoided looking at his hand before, he didn’t flinch away now. Ben was pale and losing blood fast, but he fought to keep a neutral expression as he quickly took stock of the damage and started bandaging. The last two fingers on his hand hung by threads, torn almost completely off. 

Once the first layer of makeshift bandaging was on, Ben pulled his gaze from the sky and his eyes locked on Genesis, steadfastly refusing to look. “How bad is it?”  
His gut twisted and he forced himself to keep a calm expression. “It’s going to need more than just bacta patches.”

“Shit.”

“I can’t tell if it caught an artery but if it did, you need medical attention as soon as possible. I can’t fix damage that severe.” He bit his lip anxiously. “How’s your leg?”

“Not...bad. I don’t think it bit through the duraweave of my pants. Bruised but good enough. Let’s…let’s get going.” Ben tried to put on an impassive face but the mask cracked with pain and fatigue. The too-familiar stench of blood accosted Genesis as he hauled Ben over his shoulder as best he could. 

“How are we going to find town?”

Ben blanched. “We’ll follow the fissure out til we’re clear of the screamers, then we’ll try to feel things out with the Force.”

“Are you strong enough for that?”

“I said ‘we’, as long as we’re both conscious I should be able to...” A bit of motion in his arm had pain splintering through the link again and Ben hunching into the pain. He gritted his teeth through it. “Just…help me move.”

* * *

Once clear of the fissures and into the plain, Ben motioned for a halt and sat down, his legs collapsing under him. The sun beat down on them, cracking dry skin and wicking their sweat away as quickly as their bodies produced it. Genesis could tell he was sweating much less, a sure sign of heatstroke.

Ben flung his good hand at the ground next to him, patting it and beckoning Genesis to sit down. “We need to find a way back to town.”

“How do you propose we do that?” He unslung his pack and KL-23, letting himself stretch properly.

“Touch my temples and open your mind up. We’ll try together.”

The link between them wavered, as though Ben struggled to hold his end up. “Focus on…what we feel like, what we’d feel like to someone outside of us.” Genesis felt the mental image resolve into two faintly glowing lights, connected by a deep reddish line of light. It thrummed like a violin string.

 _Good, now…step back. Widen your focus._ With Ben’s guidance, he managed to step back and look at the area about them. A couple tiny pinpricks of light, probably bugs, resolved in the area around them. _Now we…keep stepping back til we find town._

Ches’kertan was a glowing bundle of golden spots, not enough to be distracting but enough to be noticeable. Looking at the glowing lights of life, Genesis felt adrift, as though he’d been tossed from an airlock and left to fall through the void of space. “Is this how you see things all the time?”

“No. Shh.” Ben struggled as the distance unwound like thread from a spindle. “About…” his voice shook. “About fifty clicks to town.”

“And another five beyond that to the _Revenge_.”

“I can’t make it that far.”

“Clearly.” Genesis considered the implication. “I need to go it alone, go get the _Revenge_ and come back for you.”

Ben shook his head. “You’ll get lost.”

“Not if I’ve got you to help guide me.”

The frown came back. “Without a resonator, that’ll be near impossible.”

“We don’t have many other options.”

“It’ll take days.”

“No it won’t.” Genesis stood up, brushing dust from his pants. “Fifty clicks. I can do that by nightfall.”

Ben looked up at him, sweat shining in the hollows under his eyes. “Fuck. You have that look again.”

“What look?”

“The look you used to get when…when you were determined to do something. I don’t think anyone could stop you if they tried.” Ben looked sad.

“I need you to stay with me and guide me. As long as I stay on track, nobody will.” Genesis crouched and stared him down. _Promise you’ll stay with me_

Ben nodded. _As long as I possibly can._

* * *

Twenty clicks. At times he ran, slowly but surely. Sometimes he walked. Mostly, he just wished he were dead and kept going. His lips cracked open and he could taste blood. It dried on his lips or his skin or in his beard.

_I don’t feel too bad. Thirsty. Too hot._

_Keep going then._

Thirty clicks. 

Genesis could feel himself shaking. His legs burned and argued, but he could hear Ben in his head.

_You’re stronger than you look._

_Shut up and keep guiding me, I can’t keep going alone._

Forty clicks. Ches’kertan in the distance. The ground blurred, not from speed, but from heat and exhaustion. He wasn’t sure if he was actually hearing Ben anymore or if he was hallucinating.

_Ben._

_Hm?_

_Please don’t leave me like this._

_I’m not, I’m still here._

Fifty clicks.

_Ben?_

Nothing. Silence.

_Ben!_

A thought, fuzzy and weak. _I’m still here._

* * *

He barely had the strength to key the code when he got to the _Revenge_. His legs gave out under him as he walked up the ramp, and he was forced to crawl the rest of the way. He thought he could hear Ben in the back of his head, but he wasn't sure.

Later, he couldn’t remember firing the _Revenge_ up. He couldn’t remember backtracking, following his own trail til it disappeared and then following Ben’s voice the rest of the way.

He remembered the look of relief on Ben’s face, disbelief and something else mixing with the pain in his expression. He remembered the blood, so much blood, despite the fact that they’d tied off the wound. The rotflies were heavy and swarming, and there was no chance of him managing to pick Ben up. Instead, he managed to rouse Ben and half-crawled, half-dragged him on board.

They made it as far as the ‘fresher before Ben collapsed in on himself. Genesis fought with himself, drawing on the last dregs of energy to grab a nutria-fluid bottle from the galley and shove it into Ben’s good hand.

They sat together on the floor of the ‘fresher. Time didn’t seem altogether real. Ben tried to push the bottle of nutra-fluid into his hands, but he brushed it aside and made an effort to grab the medical kit from the cabinet.

Blood seeped to the floor as Genesis opened the packets of antiseptic and sealant, dumped them in the provided expandable cups, and pulled the applicators out of their wrapping. Ben watched through cracked eyes, taking a deep breath when Genesis came toward him with it. “Ben. Please.”

“Sealant?”

“Yeah.”

“Do it.”

Genesis painted the antiseptic on quickly, shuddering as Ben’s pain flared through the link like fire. He followed it with the sealant, coating every bare surface on in an effort to stem the bleeding. Finishing with the initial sealant, he poured the third packet, a setting fluid, into the cup as quickly as he could before positioning what was left of Ben's hand in the best position possible and painting it on over the thick gel-like consistency of the sealant. With the setter on top, the sealant hardened quickly, setting like a flexible polyurethane.

The sealant solidified on the end wounds, and the bleeding stopped as though it had never even begun. Genesis read the instructions, to wait a quarter of an hour, then peel the thin layer of setter from the top of the sealant to allow the pores to form properly. Then, dunk the wound in bacta to fully saturate the sealant and induce the internal pressure system as the sealant expands.

The pain sparking across the link had lessened, but Ben’s eyes were barely open and the other end of the Force-link seemed to be a blur, like a static-y holo. “How about your leg?”

Ben shook his head weakly. “The pants were thick enough to break the worst of it off. It’s bruised as fuck but not bleeding.”

“Let’s do this, then. Come on.” Genesis pulled a bucket out of a storage cupboard, washing it out as best he could before filling it with water and dumping a packet of bacta powder in to start the suspension process.

“It’s ugly. Are you…?”

“It’s…just blood. It’ll be fine.”

Ben gritted his teeth and nodded. “Fine, we’ll try to get it cleaned up, then the bacta.”

As he held out his arm, Genesis could see him shaking. The blood about the rest of his arm was already starting to crust up, and the tendons and bits of crushed bone formed twisted shapes under the sealant. He shook his head as Genesis held out a washcloth for him to start cleaning it himself. “Can you…?”

Up close, he got a mix of both smells: the rich iron tang of blood and the Lorrinash of the soap. The world wavered and his stomach twisted.

_Something…?_

The reek of blood was sickening, but the faint sweet undertones caught on something in his mind and dragged him down. Ben blurred out before his eyes and he staggered, his knees hitting the floor as he saw another world, another time.

_A thin woman with bird-like wrists and a kind smile. He looked up at her and her grip on his hand tightened, something nervous hiding below the surface of her expression._

_Somewhere new, although the woman never let go of his hand. Though her expression was pinched with worry, she looked down at him as though he was the entire world._

_Another place. A closed door, the gentle sound of dripping water. Faint pink-tinged water running under the door, spreading across the industrial white tiles, running along the organized lines of grout._

_There. A man, lean and familiar, wearing a military uniform Genesis couldn’t quite put a name to. He rapped on the closed door worriedly and tried the handle only to find it locked. Speaking words that Genesis didn’t recognize, he finally drew his blaster and blew out the lock._

_Red. So much red. Red liquid covering many of the white tiles, drying trails down the side of the bathtub. The man, yelling words Genesis still couldn’t understand as he rushed forward to the woman in the tub._

_The crown of a head of familiar red hair visible over the man’s shoulder as he stooped to the body and lifted her from the water with a desperate shout._

_The woman. He knew her, the woman with the kind smile and eyes like his own. Those eyes were eerily glazed and empty, like windows with the blinds drawn. The man blocked Genesis’s view inadvertently and he found himself being ushered aside by a droid, summoned by the shouts._

_Red saturated dress whites. The man refused to relinquish the woman’s hand even when she was declared dead._

The air smelled of blood and Lorrinash soap. Genesis gasped, fighting to find what was real and being dragged back down.

_The air smelled of metal and Lorrinash. The droid with the black casement picked him up with ease, taking him away from the man, who was sobbing. The droid made soothing noises, a series of soothing beeps and coos that lulled him into a fitful sleep._

_The memory changed. It was still the same, perhaps. Or…maybe it was another memory. Perhaps. It was all so uncertain, like trying to drink water cupped in open hands._

_The black metal casement of the droid, still holding him. An unfamiliar uniform, starchy and scratching at his skin. Quiet, the murmur of hushed voices. Weeping. The sound of water, like streams flowing in the back of his mind. Odd gloom that seemed to hang overhead and in the alleyways._

_“We of Moenia gather to say farewell to one of our own, an artist long beloved for her loving depictions of our land. Nemira Hux had a deep love for the land and worked to preserve it, even in childhood. Alas, she is gone too soon, although we can hope that the stars will grant her more peace in the beyond than she ever found here…”_

_“No!” A still-familiar voice, shouting nearby. “It was murder! Snoke had her killed, she was…!”_

_Genesis found himself whisked away from the chaos by the droid with the matte black casement._

_The air smelled of blood and flowers and lantern oil._

“Come back to me.” He struggled to tear himself from the thought, finding himself sitting on the floor in the ‘fresher. 

_“She would never have killed herself, this is murder! She was…”_

“I can’t do this on my own. Please…” the words were quiet, but Genesis opened his eyes to the sound. Ben hunched over him, blood still running in slow rivulets down his arm as it soaked through the cloth he clutched to himself. Eyes blown wide, skin blanched, Ben looked horribly vulnerable.

Tremors shook his hands as he pulled himself up, trying desperately to regain control, but still hearing the man screaming in the back of his mind. “Shit, Ben. I’m sor…”

The look on his face was exhausted as he pushed the bucket of bacta suspension toward Genesis. “No, don’t apologize. Just…help.” If Ben noticed his hands shaking as he peeled the setter off the sealant and helped Ben submerge his arm in bacta, he didn’t say anything.

He helped Ben to the main living space and settled him at the table with the bucket of bacta before digging about in the first aid kit again to rip a couple prescription-grade painkillers from the sheet. Ben took them reluctantly, and Genesis didn’t have the heart to tell him they were expired, but they would have to do.

When he left Ben sitting with his arm sunk in the bucket of bacta and returned to the ‘fresher, pools of blood had settled on the floor. The scent of Lorrenash that pervaded the rest of the air left him fighting his gag reflex. It wasn’t much, but it wrenched at his stomach and made him want to hurl.

He took slow breaths through his mouth, not his nose, and turned the fan on, sucking some of the air from the room. His hands shook more violently as he grabbed a used rag and started trying to wipe the worst of the mess from the floor, taking breaks to run the cloth under the sonic shower to help remove the worst of the gore. Once it was off the floor proper, he turned to the sonic shower and cringed at the covering of blood.

It took him the better part of an hour to be satisfied with the state of the ‘fresher. The stench of chemical cleaners was preferable to the other smells, and he closed the door to keep the reek of chemicals from spreading throughout the ship. After dumping cleaner on the floor and scrubbing til the pads of his fingers bled and stung, he turned to his clothes and those that Ben had stripped. The sonic shower clearly wouldn’t do to remove the blood and stains, so he put the clothes in the sink and soaked them. As the water ran, a bone-deep pain seemed to grow in his chest, something that wavered between pain and sorrow and exhaustion.

All at once, it was too much. He shoved his face in his hands and cried, shaking and feeling everything he’d bottled up over the past week. Genesis couldn’t remember crying like that, but surely he had at some point. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, til there weren’t any tears left to cry. 

When the world seemed numb, as though there were a layer of padding between the small, torn up bit of him there seemed to be left, he climbed to his feet and went to try to help Ben again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ilu guys for sticking with me <3 <3 <3


	8. Redox: Oxidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no real overarching reason for the delay in posting this chapter. Sorry guys.

Ben hadn’t moved from where he’d slumped in one of the chairs by the main console. He looked up and Genesis could feel the slowness of his thoughts, the blurriness caused by the painkillers. “Ugh.” Ben wrinkled his nose. “You smell like sweat, fear, and…ammonia?”

“Bleach and blood and sweat, which are your fault. I was going for ‘eau de memory-less mess’.” He tried to bring some light to the situation, but it came across weakly.

Ben snorted. “You’ve got enough of your memory to keep the snarky asshole part of you.”

“Oh yay.” Genesis turned away, going to the galley and trying to convince himself to make something hot. Ben ought to have water to replenish his fluids, but Genesis didn’t have the energy to go grab tea. In fact, now that he thought of it, he wasn’t entirely sure how he was still on his feet at all.

The galley was cold and sterile feeling, and Genesis could practically hear the cots in the bunkroom calling out to them. He nudged Ben and helped him to his feet, saying, “In the morning, we need to find you an actual medic.”

“Can’t go back to Ches’kertan. Different spaceport.” Ben slurred slowly, slumping into the cot.

“Fine. We’ll find somewhere else.” Genesis blinked, then slowly waved a hand in front of his face to no response. Ben was gone before he hit the pillow. He looked like shit, but at least he could sleep it off.

Instead of letting himself sleep, Genesis forced himself back out to the galley. Half a cup of water went down with little trouble, but then he was seized by his body’s sudden rejection of fluids.

For the second time that day, he found himself curled up against the wall in the ‘fresher, trying not to puke.

Hours passed in fits and starts, the bone-deep exhaustion settling and becoming nothing but _pain._

* * *

He came back around to Ben reaching across the Force-link. _Are you there?_

Genesis opened his eyes, and that was as far as he got before excruciating pain set in.

Lying on the ugly, outdated linoleum had to be one of the low points of his life. Ben needed him, and fuck if he could make his body obey and do what it needed to do. Instead, he reached across the link. _What do you need?_

_Where are you?_

_The ‘fresher._

About ten minutes later, Ben peeked his head in. One look at Genesis, flopped in a boneless mess on the floor, brought a desperate, humorless laugh to his lips. It was the sort of sound one made when given the choice to laugh or to cry. He leaned against the doorframe, a glass of water in his good hand, the other pulled to his chest in a makeshift sling made of a belt. “Well, aren’t we a mess?”

Genesis managed a vague noise that might have been agreement or might have been a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Water?”

Another vague mumble. Ben brought him a glass and put in on the floor, watching with pained sympathy as he struggled to sit up. The pain that had set in wasn’t the sort of violent pain of a flesh wound, it was the sort of pain of a body overtaxed to the edge of its endurance.

“Can you get up? At least get to the cots?”

“No.” The answer was flat, certain. Even sitting up to sip the water seemed impossible.

“Alright, stay still.”

“Huh?”

“Just…stay still. This is going to be awkward.”

His body moved in the air unexpectedly and he reacted, jolting to try and find the ground again. Pain splintered through his entire body. “Ben!”

Ben grimaced. “Shhh, just…don’t move.” His voice was odd, and it was only after he’d been moved to a cot that Genesis realized Ben had an eerily soothing note to his voice.

He slumped into the mattress. “What the fuck was that?”

“Moved you with the Force. What hurts?”

Genesis briefly considered the question. “Everything.”

“Did you sleep there on the floor?”

“A bit.”

“You need to sleep. Can you drink some m…?” He didn’t hear the rest. Dreamless darkness claimed him.

* * *

Waking was horrific, although it was made slightly better by a few things.

He was stripped down to his briefs and tucked under a sheet, which was almost comfortable even though everything ached and burned. A cup of water, perched on the small side table, might as well have been on top of a mountain.

The noise he made, trying to move, was pathetic. Grey and spots blurred his vision with the exertion.

The door hissed open and Ben peeked in. “You’re awake.”

“Mhm.” He dropped back on the cot. “Help?”

Ben sat down on the edge of the cot, helping prop him up on a pillow and folded blanket before carefully offering the glass of water with his intact hand. Genesis wanted to throw up with each and every sip, but it was still the best glass of water he’d ever had. “What time is it?”

“You’ve been out for almost a full cycle.”

“Great.” He wanted to sleep another full cycle through.

“Now that you’re up, I think it’d be best to get off the ground. We need to get out of here.”

“Wait, Kayell is outside.” Ben looked at him miserably for a long moment, as though contemplating taking off, droid be damned. Genesis gave him a look like a screamer with its hackles up. “Don’t you dare leave my droid, you bastard.”

“Alright, alright, fine.” Ben disappeared awhile and eventually came back with the pack slung over his good shoulder, with KL-23 strapped to it for ease of carrying. The unresponsive droid’s articulated legs hung limp and swinging, and Genesis wanted to cry when it thumped on the table.

“Can we do this now? I don’t think I can get us in the air on my own.” He waved toward his slung arm with his good arm. Genesis hauled himself painfully to his feet. It was a slow process, but once in the copilot’s seat, he could manage. Once they were in the upper atmosphere, Ben set a course and flicked the controls over to autopilot.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but…what happened?” Ben asked carefully from his place in the pilot’s seat.

“What do you mean?”

“In the ‘fresher. You went down, I could feel...bits and pieces. But whatever it was, it was entirely in your head. A memory?”

“I…I think so.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I saw a dead woman, and a man. The man I saw before. I was…young, I don’t know how old.” He paused. “I think she might have been my mother.”

Ben looked at him warily. “How did you know?”

“I just…I felt it.” He didn’t have the right words for the certainty he’d felt. “She looked a bit like me.”

“Alright, what happened?” Ben leaned forward a bit in the seat, his expression intense.

He tried to figure out a place to start, but it was impossible. Eventually, he shook his head. “Can you take a look instead?”

“You sure?”

“I don’t think I can explain.”

Ben spun his seat to face him and lifted his uninjured hand to carefully touch his temple. “It might be easier to push those memories into the liminal space.”

He tried to push everything he’d seen into the shared space, letting it diffuse into Ben’s mind as well. The ‘fresher, the blood, the woman’s smile and the way she’d looked in the memories of her when she’d been alive. Ben accepted the memories without comment.

With time to parse it all, the reality settled heavy on his shoulders. The woman he’d seen, almost certainly his mother, was long dead. The man he’d seen killed before, the one who’d been screaming in the dream, was likely his father.

“I watched my father die.” The words were out without thought.

Ben’s face twisted in pain before he hid the expression. “What do you mean?”

“That’s the man I saw die before. The other…dream, vision, whatever it was, from the other day. With the man and the water and the two that showed up and killed him. That was my father.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” Genesis climbed to his feet. “I can’t do this, I can’t talk about this right now.”

“That’s…fine.”

He turned back to Ben, awkwardly perched on the edge of the copilot’s seat. “Right now, we need to move. Find you a medic, find parts for Kayel.”

“More sleep first,” Ben said.

“Let’s pick a destination, I’ll fly and you can catch up on sleep.”

Ben grunted noncommittally, but turned to the console and flipped the star map on.

* * *

They settled in a small town on the outskirts of civilization. Ben dropped off to sleep as soon as they took off, and Genesis let him doze for the majority of the trip.

When Ben woke and shifted, wincing as he moved his arm, the air tasted of…rot and death, those were the only things Genesis could think of. Dried blood and rotting flesh, held in only by the cast. Ben grimaced at the smell, but he settled back into the chair with a sigh, saying, “We better be able to find at least a half-rate medic on this stars-forsaken hunk of rock.”

“We should be able to.”

Ben worsened as the day went on and the painkillers wore off. Genesis could feel echoes of his pain reverberating through the mental link, and even as echoes they were shockingly harsh. He managed to keep some food down, although once they were cleared for landing, he seemed anxious to get moving.

Once in the town, they found a medic and paid what they could to get Ben medicine. A bottle of pills were handed over with a shrug and instructions to take two at the beginning of the day and one before bed, and to try to keep contaminants out of the cast. He didn’t unbind the wound for a proper look, and although Genesis’s stomach twisted nervously, complaint was met with complete disdain on the medic’s part. Ben snatched the bottle away before the offer could be rescinded, and he swallowed two pills dry with a grimace.

Then it was off to try and find spare parts for KL-23. The parts were relatively inexpensive, although nothing quite matched the long-defunct droid’s parts. It would be alright, Genesis knew he could retrofit what he needed to do the repairs, but the casement would have to wait.

They restocked on supplies and headed back to the ship, Ben floating along on a pleasant wave of painkillers and heading for the ‘fresher for a shower as Genesis settled in to work on KL-23.

Progress was slow, but Genesis settled once he was certain he could fix the droid. The central processors were fine, despite the damage to its hardware. After a time he glanced down at his chrono to find that more than an hour had passed in near-silence. Ben had yet to reappear from the ‘fresher, and his stomach turned.

He found Ben slumped on the floor of the ‘fresher, no longer curled up in a ball of pain as he had been earlier. Limp limbs sprawled everywhere, his injured arm flung out to the side and the other curled up at his side, pushed into the scar tissue of the large, nasty wound on his side. One leg was bent and his hip was twisted, but the other was straight and laid out on the floor.

“Ben?” he asked softly, not wanting to wake him if he was actually asleep.

“Mmm?” he grumbled, one eye opening just enough to see a sliver of unreadable iris.

“You alright?”

“Surviving.” He reached out and grabbed the towel that was tossed on the floor next to him, pulling close and balling it up like a pillow.

Genesis sat down next to him and put his hands on his shoulders, only for Ben to grimace and shove his face in the towel. Flesh flexed under his hands and muscles cramped up painfully. The noise Ben made was somewhere between a groan and an audible cringe. It was hardly a moment later when Genesis found the first of the knots in the muscles, and gradually started kneading them out.

“Come on, up. If you make it to your cot, I’ll rub your back til you fall asleep.”

Ben grumbled, but he made it to his feet and to the bunkroom in record time for the state he was in. It wasn’t long before he was asleep again, and Genesis went back to his droid.

* * *

By the time Genesis was finished with it, KL-23 was nearly fully functional. ‘Nearly’ being the key word, as he couldn’t find the appropriate actuator type to fit the one that had been wrecked on its back leg, and had retrofitted one from an out-of-commission service droid.

When he finally restored power, KL-23 beeped to life, making pleased observations of the things around it. It chittered happily at Genesis as he finished the last few adjustments and lifted it from the workbench, placing it gently on the floor. KL-23 beeped and flexed its legs, climbing up slowly. It wobbled around for a bit, learning how the new actuator worked and adjusting its walking pattern to fit the new joint.

Before long, it was ambling about the ship again, investigating what changes had been made in its time out of commission. The retrofitted actuator worked, although it gave the droid’s walking pattern an odd limp-like motion. Over the next few weeks there were times he wondered if he might be better off completely changing the sorry thing’s legs, but then he’d ask himself why? It was happy to be up and running again, and it was enjoying its regained freedom. Why did it need to be perfect? It didn’t. He cared about it anyway, and it got around just fine even with the odd leg out.

The only point of contention between the two of them was the removal of KL-23’s damaged casement. It was agitated to the point that it complained, and was only soothed by the promise of a custom casement, shiny and new and in any color it wanted.

So KL-23 ran around the ship naked, causing its usual trouble and keeping Genesis company while Ben slept.

* * *

They made their way to the dropoff point and though Ben seemed to be feeling better, he didn’t appear to improve physically. He slept often and when he woke, he looked ill. There was a greyish sheen to his skin and he had a tendency to break out in cold sweat, and there was a hint of something rotten that seemed to follow him around.

Still, Ben seemed functional, and that was enough for the time being. The meetup was planned for an early morning in a part of the capitol one step above the slums.

Whoever had made the call for the information had requested an in-person exchange, rather than via the holonet. Genesis was uneasy, but Ben had shrugged it off. “They’re up against a pair of Force users. You can’t seriously think they constitute a threat.”

“I think we should be cautious. Last time we trusted someone and walked in without considering the implications, we nearly got ourselves killed.”

Ben snorted. “The Guavian Death Gang had no idea what they were dealing with.”

“We still nearly wound up dead.”

“Fine, we’ll scan the place ahead of time and keep tabs on who’s there. It’ll be fine.”

* * *

They went through with the job, walking along rooftops and checking the area out for a time before determining the single figure wrapped in a coat was likely the handoff. The figure wasn’t very big, possibly female, and masked. Armed with a blaster holstered to their thigh, but that was to be expected.

They approached cautiously, and as the figure noted that there were two of them, it stepped back, appearing ready to flee. One hand held something small out, likely a credit transfer card. They would need to go to a transfer station to complete the transaction, but surely they could find one nearby. “Just one of you. The other can keep watch.”

 _You or me?_ Genesis thought.

 _I can get a read on them with the Force if I need to. They don’t seem to be malicious, but I’ll keep an eye out._ Ben approached, the figure watching warily until he was close enough for them to see up into the shadows of his hood.

Genesis spotted the immediate change in the figure’s stance before Ben felt the shift of shock. The masked figure pulled up short, flipping its goggles up as it did so. “Ben?”

Ben froze, clearly not expecting to be recognized. “What?”

“Ben Solo?”

Genesis braced himself, expecting another run-in much like the one with the Guavian Death Gang.

“Shit, you’re alive?” The figure struggled with the mask and helmet, finally ripping them off to a small explosion of dark, curly hair and a warm brown face full of freckles.

Ben looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “Lucky?”

“Holy shit!” She bounded toward him and leapt up, flinging herself at him and catching him in a rib-cracking hug. “We all thought you were gone or dead or something!”

“I’m…uh…”

“Wait til Chance hears!”

Ben appeared to be fighting off panic, but when Genesis reached out to try and contact him through the Force-link, he found himself up against a wall. “Oh? Is he here too?”

“Yeah! Dad’s back home but Chance and I have been running a couple jobs for him. And Chance’s wife is back home with dad, she’s got the twins for awhile.”

“Lando’s…” That seemed to break through Ben’s wall a bit, and he went from panicked surprise to pleased astonishment. “Chance is…married?”

“Has been for a while now,” she smiled. “You’d know that if you’d been home when he sent the invite.”

Ben’s smile melted right off his face. “Ah. I…uh…couldn’t.”

“Yeah, I know, you and your family had a falling out. Still, Chance was really bummed you weren’t there.” She grinned. “To be honest, your parents hardly said anything about what happened to you when you ran away, so you can’t blame him.”

She fell in step beside them, and as she did so Ben reached out across the link to Genesis. _We need to get away, she’s an old friend and I don’t want to put her in danger._

“So, what happened to you? Where have you been, it’s been years?! And who’s this?” She eyed Genesis up and down.

“Oh, just kind of floating around.” His answer was vague, and she clearly wasn’t satisfied. “I’m sure you remember the sort of nonsense Han got up to in his younger years.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all the stories.” She turned to Genesis and held her hand out. “Since Ben clearly hasn’t made introductions, hi! Name’s Lucky Calrissian. Our dads were good buddies back in the day.”

“Genesis.” He took her hand and shook it, trying not to let his nerves show.

There was a sound of a door opening and slamming closed from somewhere down the street. Lucky looked toward the sound and spun around. “Alright, playtime is over. Let’s go. I’m not keen on this part of town anyway.”

Genesis reached out into the liminal space and prodded Ben. _What do we do?_

_She’s safe. We’ll go with and see about escaping later._

* * *

They followed her back to a ship, a slim Brentaalian transporter that looked like it’d seen fair use, but was in beautiful shape. Lucky bounded up the boarding ramp, beckoning to the other two. “Chance, you’re never going to believe who I ran into.”

The set of legs sticking out from under the console shimmied the rest of his body out of the space and their owner sat up. His jaw dropped when he saw them. “Well I’ll be damned.” His face split into a smile. “Ben?”

“Yeah.”

Chance climbed to his feet and held out his arms for a hug. “It’s good to see you, where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, you know. Around. Had to disappear for awhile.”

Chance’s face sobered up. “Yeah, there were rumors going around about what happened to Luke’s school.”

Ben nodded, but Genesis could feel the uneasy twist of a lie in his gut as he said, “They’re partially true.”

Chance frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry man, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Ben waved it off, “It’s alright, it was a long time ago.”

“Where you headed?”

“Would you believe these two were the ones that met me at the exchange point?” Lucky interrupted.

“What?”

Ben jumped in. “We took a tablet off a couple of mooks from the Guavian Death Gang awhile back, we’ve been trying to keep ourselves afloat with bounty money.”

“Yeah, alright, how about you introduce me to the other part of your ‘we’?” Chance swung around him, making for Genesis with a hand held out to shake. “Chance Calrissian.”

“Genesis.” When Chance’s eyebrows rose, he continued, the first thing he could think of flying out of his mouth. “Genesis Walker.” He could feel the shift in Ben’s attitude, surprise and then fondness.

“Nice to meet you. Any friend of Ben’s is a friend of ours.” He leaned back against the powered down console. “I suspect that intel wasn’t easy to get your hands on.”

Ben groaned and held up the cast. “You could say that.”

The Calrissians’ eyes widened and Lucky whistled. “What’d you have a run-in with?”

“Not sure, they called them screamers on Orathanx II. Vicious canids. One caught me by surprise.”

“Damn. Any luck with medical?”

“Not yet. Full surgical repair will probably cost us funds we don’t have yet, so for now I’m just making do.”

Chance gave him an odd look. “You know your mom would probably cover the cost if you asked her, right?”

“We’re not on speaking terms these days.” His expression shuttered.

“Ah, right. Well, you should at least stick around a day or two! Give us the chance to catch up, I’ll throw out a lead or two and see if I can find an affordable medic for you, get that taken care of?”

“We have other…”

“That actually sounds great,” Genesis cut in. “We’re in a bit of a bind otherwise, the meds he’s got will only last so long.”

_Are you crazy?_

_What harm can they do? If needed, we could take them out at a moment’s notice. I’ll make sure my blaster is only set to stun._

Ben glared at him through the exchange, then sighed. “I suppose he’s right.”

“Great! Then we’re going out for celebratory drinks tonight!” Lucky clapped them on the shoulders, grinning at Chase.

* * *

“You look nothing like this ID photo.”

“It was taken a couple years ago. I’ve had work done, and you know how expensive it is to buy new documentation.” Ben was solemn. “I swear, on the life and death of my great-aunt Margolotta, maysherestinpeace, my name is Thalen Adoree, and that wallet is mine.”

The bartender sighed and handed it over. “Yeah, alright, fine. Whatever.” Genesis followed Ben back to the table, drink in hand.

“Coppertop!” Lucky said cheerfully. “Come on, we need another for a hand of Deryvian Snake Skinning.”

Genesis sighed. “You’re perfectly taxing, you know that?”

“Relax, get started on that drink. Stars know you need one.”

Genesis grinned at Ben as they sat down. “Great-aunt Margo? Haven’t heard that one before.”

“Yeah, it’s an old one, I figured she needed some airing out.”

“That was awful. You need a few fresh excuses.”

“Nah, you know me. Force tricks will get me out of just about anything.” Ben waved his hand airily.

Genesis choked on his drink. “They know?”

“Of course they know, they grew up with me when my skills were still going haywire.”

“Got us out of more than a few binds, too.” Chance chuckled. “Remember that time you mind-tricked that vendor on Valen? And when dad and Han found out, they made us go back and pay him?”

“Us? That was on you, I tried to bail you out for that. And it was even worse when we went back, he didn’t remember the stolen aerodex and was probably even more pissed off.”

Chase took a sip of his drink. “That was on Lucky, I’m just the one that took the blame.”

“And not much of it, thanks to me.”

“I was four!” Lucky said indignantly. “You two were supposed to be watching me, you should have stopped me from grabbing anything in the first place!”

They sat around, conversing comfortably over a couple drinks. Genesis felt his face heat as Ben put his arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Oh get a room already you two,” Lucky groaned.

Without missing a beat, Ben said, “Excellent idea, we’ll see you in the morning.” He caught Genesis by the arm and pulled him up, knocking his thankfully empty glass over on the way.

“What?!” Genesis sputtered, gaining his feet just in time for Ben to drag him away.

* * *

Once they’d made it back to the _Revenge,_ Ben pulled him toward the bunkroom and Genesis followed, enjoying himself as Ben tried to pull him along and kiss him at the same time, with little success. Ben gave him a gentle shove, knocking him back on the cots. It was hardly a moment before Ben was on him, good hand struggling with the zip on his pants. The cast made everything harder, and Ben’s frustration only seemed to grow.

“Here, let me…” To his surprise, Ben _growled_ and ripped his pants down over his hips with the Force. He managed to choke out half a laugh before it dissolved as Ben swallowed him down. “You don’t have to…ah…”

The pleasure was unexpectedly intense for several seconds before the sudden absence of slick warmth gave him a moment to breathe. Ben looked up at him, his hair flopping down over his face. “Shush, I’ve wanted to do this for months.”

“Have we…?” the question was lost as Ben took him in his mouth again.

“Mmhmm,” and the vibration of the sound shoved him toward the edge.

“How far have we…taken…things…?” Words were a struggle through the pleasant distraction of Ben’s mouth.

Ben hesitated a moment at that, then tentatively offered him an image across the mental link.

_It’s him, clean-shaven and pale, sprawled across a mattress. A few things grab Genesis’s attention: there are dark bruises sucked across his thighs, his hair is slicked back with product, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. He sees through Ben’s eyes as Ben stands over him, hands tight on his hips and buried to the hilt._

“Oh,” Genesis reacted viscerally to the image, like a punch in the gut, “…oh.”

He couldn’t break Ben’s eye contact as he was offered another image from Ben’s memory, then another.

_Ben’s looking up at him, eyes fixed on the segment of slicked back hair that starts to come loose. The sheets under them are soft, the tension in his belly burning like fire, and the overwhelming feeling of fullness, both physical and mental. He feels his heart is trying to break through his ribs._

_The next memory: they’re not even undressed, there are black robes and uniform pants pushed out of the way and teeth at his throat and sweet friction as they grind together._

The range of offered memories grew and they seemed to flood his mind.

_...in the ‘fresher, not the sonic, a luxury with real water and it’s hot and delicious and it’s running down his face…somewhere that must be a maintenance closet...the pilot’s seat of a ship, which his mind helpfully identified as the Upsilon they’d traded..._

And then it wasn’t a memory, it was then and there and Ben was looking up at him, scrappier looking than he’d ever been before but somehow infinitely happier. He could _feel_ the waves of affection and want rolling off of him and it was a moment before he could break his mind out of the loop of Ben’s perspective and truly appreciate the look in Ben’s eyes as he went down on him. 

The mix of memories and sensation dragged him over the edge. Ben followed, mouthing the pale line of his throat before slumping to the cot, half on top of Genesis. They floated on a haze of endorphins, finally letting exhaustion claim them.

* * *

In the days that followed their run-in with the Calrissians, Ben’s condition worsened quickly. He spent much of his time curled up in the spare cot in the Calrissians’ bunkroom, shivering and sweating out a nasty fever. Even with the standard antibiotics that had come in the medkit, he didn’t seem to be getting better. His arm, still sealed in the cast below the elbow, didn’t seem to be making much progress. Genesis couldn’t open the cast and clean it without risking him bleeding everywhere again. There was no way to check the progress, but he had a sinking feeling it was not good.

Even Ben’s face had gone a faint waxy greyish hue. When he managed to leave the cot, he tended to stay in the central room, wrapped in a blanket and listening as they talked.

That evening, Genesis sipped his drink reluctantly. It tasted of stale grains and was, quite frankly, unpleasant. More pleasant than the brew on Orathanx II but still pretty bad. Ben sat on the floor, wrapped once again in a blanket after having thrown his drink back much more quickly. He looked sickly, and if the fever-sweats he woke with each morning were any sign, he was going downhill rapidly. Medicine or no, he would need further medical aid soon, and Chance had yet to hear back on any of the transmissions he’d sent out.

Chance sat in the pilot’s seat, chatting with the two of them. Lucky sat in the copilot’s seat, legs kicked up and relaxed as she played with KL-23, something like a game of fetch.

There was a chime, the notification of an incoming transmission. Chance punched the button to receive it and waited for the holo to load.

“Ben Solo!” the voice was familiar, and Genesis perked up as the holo crackled into view. The older woman had a headscarf wrapped about her hair, and looked imperious even though she was lacking eyebrows. “Where are you, you sorry piece of shit?”

Genesis climbed to his feet, smiling. “Elie!”

Ben seemed to shrink into his blanket a bit as she glared at Chance. “Get him over here, I want him on holo.” He struggled to climb to his feet and Genesis put his drink down to steady him and bring him over into the holo’s range. 

“Uh. Good to see you alive, Elie?” his voice wavered a bit.

“No thanks to you. When I get my hands on you, I’m going to wring your throat. Your stupid mistakes nearly got me killed by the Order.”

“I apologize for that.” He looked sheepish. “In our defense, yours nearly got us killed as well.”

She paused. “What happened?”

“Your contact? Someone sold us out, probably him.”

“Sevvan, that motherfucker. I knew he’d always been shady. Who’d he sell you out to?”

“The Guavian Death Gang.”

“Ah.” She paused for a moment before recovering. “Right. Well. You forgive me that and I’ll forgive you the first of your fuck-ups.”

“How many more do we have on us after that?”

“Are you really going to ask me that? With everything you’ve done?” Her voice and expression took on something dangerous.

Ben hesitated. “You don’t hold any authority over me, Elie. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Boy, can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that? I have my sources, I had to go into hiding when the Order came after me. I know who you are now. I know exactly who you are.” Ben looked angrily at her holo, something dangerous that Genesis hadn’t seen since they’d escaped the star destroyer. “Where do I start, _Kylo Ren_? Betraying your family and the Resistance? Simply the deaths on your hands? How many deaths, Ben?”

One of the Calrissians gasped behind them and Ben flinched. In that moment, he seemed to change, shrinking into his shadow a bit before straightening again. “I lost count. A long time ago.”

“I bet you fucking did.” Her voice went dark and angry. “Your parents would be ashamed.”

“My sins are my own, Elie. Not a one of us is without blood on their hands.” Ben’s face changed, something raw and too-open tearing him apart. “Even my parents.”

“I’ve killed, but not like you. You killed for the Order.” Her voice sank to a hiss. “And that leads me to _him._ Where is he?” The cam for the holo turned toward Genesis. He found himself looking up at the holo as she addressed him directly. “You. You, General? You seemed relatively pleasant.” Ben started, lunging at the holo to shut it off even as she continued.

“But Starkiller? You…I don’t even have words for that.” Her voice shook with rage and Ben flung himself forward, fumbling with the dials to try and stop the feed. “The slaughter of billions, at your command. Innocent lives. How dare you even walk into my shop? How dare you even _exist?_ ”

“What are you talking about? I don’t…” _remember_. The word died on his lips as her words sank in.

Starkiller.

_Starkiller._

The word caught on something in his chest, something raw and familiar, like the edge of a broken bottle.

_Billions._

The pieces of the puzzle slid into place.

General Armitage Hux knew who he was. He couldn’t remember it, but he knew.

_Billions._

War crimes, Ben had said.

_Starkiller._

He _knew_ what he’d done.

_…slaughter of billions at your command._

His stomach turned and he only just made it to the bin before retching.

_Disgust and fear and sorrow and shame and regret and…_

The world around him spun and wavered.

The scope of it all was beyond even him.

_Billions._

How did one kill billions? What kind of war had they been in?

_…at your command_

Command. He’d been a commanding officer. Ben had told him as much.

_And you, General?_

He hadn’t been a commanding officer. He’d been _the_ commanding officer. Ben had left that bit out. And Ben…Kylo Ren? The name caught on something familiar in his mind and a sick shiver ran down his spine.

The world resolved around him in slow motion, a freakish calm that descended on him. Chance and Lucky both held blasters in front of themselves defensively as Ben positioned himself between them and Genesis as a human shield. “You both know I trained as a Jedi. That’s not even the beginning of what I’m capable of, even like this.” He listed a bit to the side and caught himself. “You couldn’t stop me if I wanted to kill you, but I don’t want to.”

“Stand down.” Lucky was as steady as durasteel, a woman with near-nothing to lose. Chance fought to steady himself, the fear rolling off of him in waves.

“Put your weapons down.” Genesis could hear the puissance of the suggestion in the air.

Chance wavered, ever so slightly, but Lucky didn’t budge. “I said stand down, Ben.”

“Put your…” Ben swayed, “Put your weapons down.”

As the urge to vomit faded, Genesis spit and wiped his face with an oily rag from his pocket, something he’d been using while working on KL-23. He staggered back to his feet, guts emptied and feeling like he’d been scooped out with a shovel. Through their conversation, through the guilt and fire that ran under his skin and threatened to tear him to bits, Genesis felt strangely at peace, like whatever he’d been running from had finally caught up with him. Hell was at the door, there was no use running anymore.

He watched it all with a strange, detached feeling. _Shock,_ the back of his mind filled in before another part of his mind filed the thought away for later.

“We’re obligated to take you to the Resistance.” Chance’s expression belayed faint panic.

Ben shook his head minutely. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Ben.” Genesis said his name firmly. Deliberately. Was that him? Was that Hux, the First Order General? He didn’t know. He still didn’t entirely understand who he was or what he’d done, but he knew what he had to do.

“Not now.”

“Ben, listen to me.” The words were there. All he had to do was say them. “I say we let them take us in.”

Ben spun on him, stopping and wavering for a moment before regaining his balance. “What??”

“We’re running out of choices. You’re dying. I should be dead. I say we let them make the call.”

Ben stared, aghast. Genesis could see a drip of sweat running down his jaw from his hairline.

“We can’t keep running forever.”

“This isn’t…you don’t understand. They’ll kill you on sight.”

“If Elie knows who I am, I’d bet the Resistance already knows. They’re coming for us anyway. And you can’t fight them all.”

“No, they can’t…they can’t take you. I won’t let them.” Fever and fear burned his face a splotchy red, concentrated in his cheeks. Genesis looked at him, really looked at Ben, and reached for his end of the mental link.

Ben was afraid. Stars, he was so afraid. They’d left, they’d tried to run away from everything he feared, and yet here they were, on the edge of the pit. There was no escaping it, there never had been. They’d only managed to delay the inevitable.

The look in Ben’s eyes bordered on possessed. “I won’t let them.”

“It sounds like they can and they will.” He looked at Ben and pushed a message into the liminal space between their minds before continuing. _It’s to our advantage to gain their trust as best we can._ “Let them take us in. We’ll go peacefully.”

“They’ll destroy us.” Ben’s voice wavered. “They’ll kill you.”

“Then we tell them what we can in advance and we try to negotiate.”

“They’ll put you on trial and execute you.” His voice cracked, and he grabbed Genesis to pull him close. It seemed as though it was meant to be a hug, but Genesis found himself holding Ben up, keeping him from collapsing.

A bitter wave welled up in his chest. “You killed that man I was when you wiped my memory, Ben. I’m going to throw myself on their mercy and…hope. If there’s anything left in my head that you didn’t wipe out, maybe they can somehow pull it out and use it to stop the Order. We’ve seen what they can do, you know as well as I do that they have to be stopped.”

“Hux…”

He flinched back at the use of his old name, pushing back another wave of nausea. “…is gone. Whoever I was is gone, Ben. They can have whatever info is locked away in there if they can get to it, and if there’s nothing of that man left in my head, then I hope they can rest easy knowing they’ve executed little old me.” He almost laughed, a reaction entirely inappropriate but so hard to stifle.

_No._

He continued. “Right now, this is the best way forward. Really, the only way.”

_We could…incapacitate them._

_No._

_Hux, you can’t do this._

_I’m not him, and yes, I can._

Ben pushed himself away and looked as though he’d been slapped, dumbstruck. He wavered on his feet, took one step to try and catch himself, then dropped to the floor.

Genesis rushed in, but not in time to catch him. Pulse, check. Fever, seemingly worse than before. Ben’s skin was hot and slick with sweat, a faint ashy grey where it wasn’t mottled reddish or bruised. As Genesis reached out, he found Ben’s mind was a dazed blur. He turned to the Calrissians, who had been frozen with indecision as the argument spun out. “I’d like to turn myself over to the Resistance in exchange for medical aid for him.”

Chance’s face twisted with disgust. “Just…like that?”

“I’m sure there will be further negotiation, but yes.”

The siblings looked at each other, then Lucky sighed. “I’ll get the General on the holo.”

* * *

“The general is on the comm.” Chance stepped away, watching him cautiously. “Ma’am, he’s here, and he’s…surrendered. Somewhat.”

“What do you mean, ‘somewhat’?” The holo crackled to life, showing an older woman. She looked tired, although she might have been very pretty once.

“He’s agreed to go peacefully as long as his conditions of surrender are met.”

She frowned. “Oh, this should be good. Bring him on the holo.”

Genesis stepped up into the range of the scanners, waiting for the blip of confirmation that his holo was up and functional on the other end of the comm. “Is this a private link?”

The general looked unimpressed. “You’re one of the most wanted men in the galaxy, you can’t seriously expect me to talk to you on an unsecured line. You’re selling me rather short, Hux.”

“Right.” He pulled himself back together. “My companion, Ben Walker, son of Han Solo and a former friend of the Calrissians here who seem to know you, is in extremely dire medical straits. He’s fevered, delusional, and reeks of rot. The Calrissians have a couple diagnostic scanners, they say he’s slowly dying of sepsis.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. The woman’s face was impassive, but if Genesis was correct, it was a carefully constructed front. Whatever he was negotiating held meaning to her. Too bad he didn’t know how.

She took a slow breath. “Go on.”

“In trade for medical care and asylum for him, I am willing to submit myself to a full interrogation, performed by a Force-user. And, I’m assuming, captivity.” He fought to keep his voice from shaking.

There was a moment of silence, then, “What??”

“Any and all information I have left in my head, general. It’s yours, if you guarantee Ben’s safety. When we were still with the Order, he took things from my mind. He…wiped it, like a slate. What all is gone, I’m not sure. But I’m also fairly certain there’s still valuable information somewhere in there, and it needs somebody skilled enough to dig it out. I get flashes, bits and pieces, every once in awhile. I can’t give you much information directly because I don’t know what’s in there. But I know a fair amount of it is valuable information.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “You’re not negotiating for your own life?”

He took a deep breath. “If you can find a Force-user as thorough with ransacking my head as Ben was, I’m not sure what they’ll find. Ben stirred up things neither of us knew were there, and I don’t properly know what I have to negotiate with. So it’s time to put my cards on the table.” Another deep breath as he tried to calm himself. “I’d like to somehow create…stipulations, of a sort. I know my life is forfeit, based exclusively on who I am, whether I remember it or not.” Another shaky breath. “If your Force-user can dig up enough information to stop the head of the Order, the one that’s been hunting Ben and, I suspect, has been the mastermind behind the entire war, I’d like to make an appeal for my own life.”

The General, as Chance had called her, snorted.

“I know it’s unlikely. But right now, my main concern is Ben.”

The silence on the other end of the line was telling. She finally addressed him directly. “Well, General, you drive an…interesting bargain.”

“I’m not a general anymore. And I’m driving the only bargain I can.”

She stared him down as best as one could over a holo, as if trying to read him over the channel. After a long minute of consideration, she shook her head. “Chance? Lucky? Are the two of you still there?”

Lucky watched from where she’d perched on the table, a deep frown on her face. “Yeah, we’re still here.”

“Your one and only priority is to bring them to the coordinates I send you. I and a select number of trusted advisors will meet you there. Any further negotiation will occur there.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And Lucky?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“I have a couple favors I’d like you to do. Stay on the line.”

* * *

With Ben down for the count, there was little they could do to hold to standard procedures. Genesis and Chance moved Ben to the smallest of the ship’s private bunkrooms, the only one that could be locked down from the outside. They set a small security droid to monitor him and locked him in. Chance was quiet, as if uncertain what could possibly be said in light of the recent revelations. Lucky was rather more verbal once they were in the air.

“I can’t believe you assholes tried to convince us you were decent people. Especially you. I fucking…I just…godsdamn genocidal maniac. I can’t believe you. ”

“Not that it’s much of a defense, but I didn’t know that myself until about an hour ago.”

“Shut up.” She clamped cuffs over Genesis’s wrists.

He was quiet for a bit as she sent a number of transmissions at the console. Eventually, she sat up, leaning down to put her face in her hands.

“So. What’s the plan?”

“Did you not hear me tell you to shut up?” she grumbled.

“It’s not going to help. Strategically, it’s not going to help. Clearly, I’m not exactly on your side, but I’m definitely not on their side either. So if you want this to go smoothly, it’d be best not to hit me with surprises. What does your organization need of me?”

Lucky lifted her head and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Fine. Alright. But I’ll give you information on a need-to-know basis.”

“Deal.”

“We need you as unrecognizable as possible. General Organa’s orders. What’s left of the New Republic has no idea you’re turning yourself over, and unless you’ve somehow notified the Order, neither do they. We’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“As would I.”

“We’re leaving your ship in good hands, for the time being. Chance is arranging transport, it’ll be stored by a contact of ours for now, but the two of you are our greatest priority. The Resistance needs every ship it can get, and if I know Ben, something tells me yours is more than it appears at first glance.”

Genesis very nearly grinned. “The _Revenge_ doesn’t look like much, but she’s a masterpiece.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.” She looked to the console and ran a few more transmissions. “There are a number of things that need to be done tomorrow, but for tonight, we should really have you under lock and key.”

“I understand.”

“We’ve got full surveillance on the ship, so don’t try anything stupid. I’d recommend cleaning up in the ‘fresher first. Once we’re in the air, you’ve got about 36 hours of relative freedom and then you’ll be turned over to the Resistance.” Despite her earlier anger, she looked tired. “I can’t do anything to guarantee your treatment once you’ve been turned over, so you might as well get some rest and clean up now.”

Genesis nodded and made his way to the ‘fresher. He didn't need the mirror to know how bad he looked, and he fought the urge to look as he waited for the sonic shower to come up to speed. He could feel bags under his eyes, the weariness that had sunken in and settled in his bones. The scruff had grown out into a fuller beard. From the strange feel of it, he'd never grown a full beard, and it still itched faintly.

Exhaustion and the weight of existence made it feel like his skin was sagging, slowly sliding off his face as he scrubbed. His hands were calloused and cracking with wear. The blisters he'd gotten were long healed, the splits and bubbles that had developed when he'd first started working on the _Revenge_ more extensively. His chest hurt at the thought of their ship in someone else’s hands. Chance seemed reliable, but the _Revenge_ was theirs.

Once clean, he donned fresh clothes and let Lucky lock him in the small bunkroom with Ben. He clambered into the bunk next to Ben, feeling strangely claustrophobic between his frame and the wall of the bulkhead.

Despite his exhaustion, it was a long time before he slept.

He dreamt of the infinity of space, dripping down white tiles like his mother’s blood.

* * *

The next morning, Ben continued to sleep as Genesis extricated himself from the bunk. His mind twisted and spun through scenarios, and something felt right about sitting on the floor and trying to meditate. He’d never been able to relax and connect as Ben did, but it helped him clear his mind in the hour between waking and when Lucky unlocked the door.

He looked up at her and she frowned, beckoning him to follow. They left Ben to sleep.

“The General wants you looking nothing like your holos.” She dropped a box of dye on the table. “To be honest, there’s not a lot of work I have to do. Make your hair dark, that’s about it. You kind of look like shit.”

“Thanks.” As low as he felt, he couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“’fresher. Let’s go.” She worked in silence for a time, draping a towel over his shoulders and leaning him over the sink to begin applying the dye. It was mesmeric, and he was almost able to forget what was happening and simply blank his mind until she spoke again. “Here’s a question for you: what have you been eating that you looked healthier on whatever disgusting military rations the Order put out than you do now?”

“I have no idea. We’ve been eating rations and local stuff to wherever we’ve been? It didn’t seem bad.”

“You just…you look like you’ve dropped a good 30 pounds of muscle. I’ve seen the holos. Everyone’s seen the holos.” She paused. “Wait…were the shoulders of your uniform padded?”

“Again, I have no idea.”

“Stars, I bet they were!” She snorted. “Anything for the propaganda shot, huh?”

They fell back into silence as she made sure the dye soaked his hair, then moved on to his eyebrows. She’d finished them and moved on to his beard when she asked, “You have no idea who he is, do you?”

“Who?”

“Ben.”

He opened his eyes. “No, should I?”

Lucky stilled, then looked at him carefully. “You know, I’m not sure.”

There was a commotion from the main quarters as they waited in the ‘fresher for the dye to set, the sound of Ben and Chance arguing, given that Ben had finally woken.

Genesis was silent again, left feeling fragile like glass and hollow. There was little to do or say. The detachment made him feel docile, like a broken varactyl. Lucky hovered over him, watching warily as he sat in silence. When time was up, Lucky pulled him to his feet and held his head under the showerhead on a hose. “Close your eyes again, you don’t want dye in them.”

She ran her fingers through his hair to start working the dye from his scalp. He cracked his eyes open to see what color the dye would be and gasped at the sight of the ink-black of space pouring down the drain, just as in his dream the night before.

He jerked away from her, splattering blackish water everywhere. He caught himself on the wall, but as he pulled his hand away and saw the dye running off his skin, now marked in an inky handprint on the tile wall, something snapped.

And then, to his own shock, he started sobbing. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Everything had broken over him so quickly that he hadn’t quite managed to process everything. But standing with his head hung over the basin and looking down into the black water that reminded him of the blood of galaxies, the feelings he’d managed to bury came bubbling up, overflowing and pouring down his face.

He pushed up and away from Lucky as she reached for him, scrambling away from the human contact in a moment of blind panic and tumbling back into the sonic shower. He slammed his head on the wall and the shock of it brought him back to reality, dizzy and hurting.

Lucky looked down at him with disgust and he had the disembodied feeling of being outside of himself, looking down at himself through her eyes. Genesis…no, Hux, General Hux, looked terrifyingly small and vulnerable. Near-naked, shivering, and crying in the plasticy white environment of the ‘fresher, he knew he was on unsteady mental ground. And yet here he was, detached enough to recognize that he was falling apart.

Heavy footsteps behind her sounded and she punched the button to close the ‘fresher door. There was banging, the sound of a heavy fist on the door and yelling that Genesis couldn’t quite make out. He could feel Ben reaching for the link between them and drew away, curling in on himself.

Lucky sighed heavily and crouched at the edge of the sonic shower. “Come on, pull yourself together, it’s ok. You’re…you’re safe. You’re here with me, you’re safe for now.”

“I’m fine,” he trembled and the words were low, but he looked down at the dark dye running off his skin and shuddered. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly that’s a load of shit. Look. Just…let’s get some hot water running, alright? It’ll warm you up. We’ll wash that dye out and get you cleaned up, then get some warm clothes and food. Look at me, look at me.” Lucky turned his chin up to make him look up, trying to be as understanding as she could. Genesis’s eyes were blown wide with fear. “You’re with me. For now, you’re safe.”

Genesis nodded slowly, placing his trust in her. “Now close your eyes, I don’t want to hurt them.” Lucky turned him around and took the water hose up instead of turning on the sonic. The dye washed out in warm rivules that he felt wash down his shoulders. “Did I ever tell you about our stint on Coruscant when I was eight?”

He stared looked at the floor. “I don’t know.”

She kept up a steady stream of chatter, not letting him slip back into his own mind. When they’d finished, they left the ‘fresher to find that Ben had worn himself out again, and Chance had forced him back to bed and knocked him out with another dose of painkillers.

Genesis curled up on the cot next to him, uncomfortably reeking of hair dye, and went to sleep.

* * *

The morning was tense and anxious as they approached the coordinates the General had sent. Ben slept through much of it, and Genesis found himself sitting in the cockpit with the others. As they landed, Chance went to wake Ben. When they reappeared, Lucky and Genesis were already mostly dressed. Once Chance had talked him into warmer clothes, Ben started poking at the flecks of pigment that had stained Genesis’s face. “What’s on your face?”

“Right.” He pulled his hood aside, revealing dark hair. Ben blinked in surprise. “It’s dye. Now cut it out.”

“I like it.”

“Fine.”

“It’s nice.”

“Not if my roots show.”

Ben snorted at the ridiculousness of it. “No one is going to recognize you.”

“We’re going to the Resistance base. There’s not a single person there that wouldn’t kill me on the spot if they knew who I was. You said it yourself.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Lucky chimed in. “Well, technically, there is. Those that are cleared to know who you are.”

“A couple of jedi and the General.”

Ben looked distant. “Yeah. A couple of jedi and the…the General.”

* * *

As they disembarked, Genesis and Chance supported Ben, who hung heavily between them. Lucky followed, as did KL-23.

The receiving party was small, various people Genesis didn’t recognize led by one he did. General Organa was smaller than she had looked in the holo, but her presence took up the entire landing strip. As she saw them, she crossed her arms, looking up at him. “Ben.”

Ben wavered, clutching at Genesis’s shoulders with his good arm. “You…”

“He’s hurt,” Genesis said quickly as Ben swayed, threatening to fall.

The General immediately took control of the situation. “Get him to medical, see what’s wrong with him.”

“His arm is infected, he was bit by a screamer, it ripped him up pretty bad, I don’t know what kind of…” Genesis trailed off as Ben was whisked away by a pair of men in flight suits.

He turned back to find General Organa staring him down. She was small and steely, and he could recognize the look of a fighter. She looked him over, assessing him from head to toe, then said, “General.”

He shrugged. “Not anymore. Haven’t you heard from the Calrissians? He ripped most of my memories out of my head.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, but if you’re telling the truth, I’m not even surprised.”

They faced off in silence for a minute before Genesis broke it. “What of his medical care?”

“He will be taken care of, providing you uphold your end of our bargain.”

Genesis nodded, his stomach turning wretchedly. “If you have a Force user available, I’m ready.”

She almost smiled. “It just so happens we do.”

* * *

Sitting in the cell, Genesis was unsure what to expect. The room was comfortable enough, a flat foam mat on the floor to sit on, a low table. A droid came in, the first set of doors opening and securing before the second clear durasteel set opened. It wheeled about and faced him, saying in the overly-soothing voice used by droids in high-risk areas, “I will now complete a scan of the room, for your safety and the safety of our agent.” The scan ran, a beam humming about the room to determine that there were no hidden weapons, no threats. [Clear] the droid beeped when it had finished.

[Thank you] Genesis whistled in response.

The droid turned and made an odd wiggling motion of pleased surprise. [You are welcome] it beeped, before returning to the pre-programmed soothing voice. “Please have a seat on the mat, and remain seated and calm. Any threat to our agent’s person will be dealt with swiftly. Standard tranquilizers are not painless.”

He shuffled and sat, scooting to a position on the mat that put him in mind of Ben’s typical meditative position. The doors slid open and a woman came in. She was narrow and wiry, with a closed expression and unreadable dark eyes. He looked up at her warily.

“Hello General.”

He sighed. “I suppose it’s useless to deny that title again.”

She shrugged. “Until proven otherwise, that’s what I’m sticking to. You can call me Rey.” She handed him a datapad. “We’re in for an unpleasant interlude, but first, some administrative details.”

“I understand.”

“I’ve got some documentation for you to sign, indicating that you have consented to a mental search and that, should your case ever reach a court of law, you have volunteered your services in an effort to provide information and end the war, and that will be taken into account. In exchange for your services, medical care and asylum will be provided to one Ben Organa-Solo, and…”

“What?”

“Which part of that are you asking about?”

“Ben…?”

“One Ben Organa-Solo, formerly known as Kylo Ren, is currently being treated for sepsis and we have a pair of medics determining what further medical attention will be required.”

“He’s related to the General?”

“In the interest of what they’d call full disclosure, he’s her son.” Rey almost looked sympathetic. “Following medical treatment, he will be kept in appropriate custody until it can be determined if he is a risk to the Resistance and the Republic. His survival, for now, will be secured by your compliance, but is otherwise unknown to anyone outside of this compound.”

“The Calrissians?”

Rey frowned. “Have remained here temporarily. Until they’re cleared, they’re a security risk.”

He wondered for a moment about Elie, then pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He wasn’t going to give her away if they didn’t already know. “Right. Alright. Can I read through these?”

Rey handed him the datapad. “Take an hour, I’ll be back.”

He scanned it quickly. “I shouldn’t need an hour. Half, at most.”

She shrugged. “Tell the droid when you’re finished.”

* * *

Half an hour later on the mark, Rey returned, plugged the datapad into the droid for report transmission, and sat down next to him on the mat. “Again, a lot of this I’m telling you in the interest of full disclosure. This will, unfortunately, be unpleasant. It will bring up memories you have tried to forget, possibly those you don’t remember. At a minimum, you’ll likely feel a headache from the emotional wear and tear.”

“And at a maximum?”

She shook her head. “I don’t do this as…” she hesitated, “Ben did. Don’t resist, and hopefully it’ll be fairly painless. I’m not trying to remove things from your head, just…shuffle them around a bit. This is being done at your behest, so as long as you don’t resist, it shouldn’t be…especially unpleasant.” She crossed her legs and folded the layers of her robe across her lap. “Alright, lay on your back and put your head on my lap. This will be easiest for both of us.”

Laying on the floor, staring up at the blank ceiling was strange. Rey placed her hands gently on either side of his face, fingers wrapped around the back of his head, the meat of her thumbs pressed firmly above his temples. The fluorescent lights caught the stray hairs that had escaped her buns in a halo effect as she looked down at him. “Close your eyes. It may help with the nausea. Take some slow, deep breaths, try to regulate your breathing with mine. The more in-tune we are, the less your mind will reject me.”

The sensation of Rey prodding his mind was different from the relative unobtrusiveness of Ben’s mind touching his, the communication they’d created in the middle space between their minds. She wasn’t unkind, but she also did what she felt she had to in order to find what she needed.

“We’re going to start with your recent memories. The general would like me to ascertain your story first, so we’ll work backwards. Ready?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

He let her sift through memories, occasionally pointing her in the right direction in order to ease the strain of searching. It was impossible to tell, but she seemed fairly pleased at the ease with which she was able to examine his memories.

Her presence was light, flickering from recollection to recollection like dust on a breeze. She swirled around the memories, feeling out the shapes of them from all angles before moving on to the next.

She took a long look at the events of the past few months, examining his reactions and motives to everything while keeping the bits of her mind he could feel carefully neutral. Among all of the memories, a few things remained consistent. A desire to know who he was. A deep-set knowledge that he could learn and master anything he needed to, given the chance. Determination. And Ben. Ben, who had taken care of him and tried so hard to protect him from the Order, the Resistance, and himself. Ben, who laughed and lived and hurt and existed with him. Ben, who projected an aura of anger and harshness, but sometimes was soft and vulnerable like the underbelly of a beast.

Rey sifted through his mind over time that could have been minutes or hours or days, noting everything and nothing until she came to a giant, gaping void.

She withdrew from his mind carefully, disturbing nothing as she went. In the silence of his own mind, Genesis was offered a moment’s reprieve before he opened his eyes.

Rey looked at him curiously. “You’re Force sensitive.”

“As I’ve recently found out.”

She frowned and seemed to change the subject. “Do you have any memories beyond that point? Waking up on the _Finalizer_?”

“Very few. Mostly just…impressions, nothing specific. Things I’ve seen in dreams and...visions, I suppose. I don’t know if they’re real.”

“We’re going to pursue those memories, see if we can unlock them. I’m going to need more than just your consent to do so, though. I’m going to need your assistance.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Follow my lead, I’ll help guide your mind as best as I can, but you’ll need to forge the paths between memories yourself. Breathe. Let me in, help me find the residual memories.”

* * *

_The feeling of boots. Uncomfortable, formal boots that bite at his heels and wear blisters._

_He remembers his first pair of proper combat boots, so much more comfortable than the glossy black boots he’d worn in his early days of school. Worn. Functional._

_Dust coated. A different pair of boots on his feet, running. There’s a woman beside him, tall and blonde with a ragged smile, her medical pack on her back painfully light._

_The same pair of boots, and he’s still running, but the dust is gone and the woman is gone and his chest hurts, he knows he’s going to die and the only comfort is that what was left of his squadron after the airstrike survived, she’d told him so, she’d told him they’d been airlifted out, that he’d been left for dead and it was only luck that she’d found him. And it wasn’t luck, it couldn’t have been luck, because they’d both been captured and now she’s dead and he’s got an extra set of dogtags dangling around his neck and they aren’t his. They read Cpt. Cerolin Astra. But he promised._

_A hospital bed. The ceiling is stark white and the floor is mopped clean. His arms are bandaged from wrist to elbow and wrapped in bacta patches but it’s too late, it’s far too late for the burns to heal. Part of him, the weak part his father had always detested, hated that he hadn’t died in the field. The other part of him is more determined than ever to live._

_The blonde woman, she was gone. She’d died, he’d held her hand as she died but there she was, standing in the space of the thrown-back curtain around his bed. But her eyes are all wrong. It’s not her. It’s her ghost. It has to be. A phantasm come straight out of death to haunt him for not saving her, after all she’d done for him._

_The ghost never leaves. She stays by his side. She finds a way to stay, even as he rises through the ranks at alarming speed, promoted by his still at command and a stubbornness that becomes legendary. Her career trajectory is different, but somehow she’’s always nearby. Phasma is hauntingly loyal, and she becomes the closest thing he’s ever had to a friend._

_He is promoted to General and transferred to the Starkiller project and then…_

_...nothing._

* * *

He opened his eyes to find Rey looking down at him, her expression carefully shuttered. “There’s nothing to find, moving forward from there.”

The process left him feeling drained and he exhales, feeling himself fade. “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

“Perhaps. But I think there’s more.”

“I don’t…” he swallows, his mouth dry and his throat sticking, “I don’t know that there’s more.”

“You didn’t know that was there either.”

“We’re going to try to go deeper. Are you ready, or do you need a break?”

“Let’s…let’s try this. Maybe a break after.” He took a slow breath. “I’d rather get it over with.”

* * *

_Boots._ Part of him, conscious of the memory, wonders why it’s always boots.

_Tailored clothes he hated. A certain way his hair is parted every day. A feeling of connectedness to the world around him, to the colors and the sounds and the calm._

_“Your great uncle is a very powerful man, Armie. He has the same gift as you and I. And if you are very, very lucky, one day he might teach you to use it as he does,” his mother says. “To bring order to the galaxy.”_

_His mother. He can’t put words to the emotions that rise in his chest, but his memory of her is of a strong-willed and kind woman, unwilling to bow to the whims of others._

_He remembers the man his mother speaks of, ever so faintly. He remembers he was old, just...old, and that he smelled of old cologne, musty and faintly sweet. He wore dark robes and smiled as he patted his head. The words, “Perhaps one day, my boy.” Nothing else remains of his memory._

_They move along to the next memory they dig up. They are running, and his mother tugs him along by the hand. He is small, and cannot run as fast as them. She picks him up and clutches him to her chest, barely breaking stride and stronger than she looks. “Don’t let go. You hear me love? Don’t let go. We have to leave.” There’s a tone in her voice, something angry and fearful._

_He doesn’t want to leave. His mother’s studio in the Imperial Center is home, small but close to the sounds and colors of the city, where they can blend in and disappear in the crowds._

_“We’ll make for Moenia.”_

_“Nemira, you can’t be serious, they’ll find us.”_

_“I have friends there. I don’t dare go to my family, not now. We can stay low until everything settles again.”_

_He sits in the shuttle and watches his parents bicker, even as his mother sets the coordinates and takes off. He falls asleep listening to them argue._

_More memories follow, argument after argument. Quiet, solitary days spent playing on the floor of his mother’s new study, the peace broken by constant fights. He doesn’t know what they are about, but there is a feeling in his stomach and he knows they are fighting about him._

_People come to visit. He doesn’t remember much about them._

_And then...the closed door, his father blasting the lock open. Red and yelling and crying and his mother is dead, pulled from the water with gaping wounds in her wrists that looked like mouths, without the teeth._

_The smell of blood and lorrinash soap._

_A funeral. Her funeral. Standing next to his father in starchy, itchy uniform, and looking at her laid out on pillows in the box. She looked pretty, but she had too much makeup on. She never wore makeup, and something about her face looked wrong with it. Even knowing it was impossible, he half expected his mother to sit up and say it wasn’t real, that she’d only been sleeping, to hold him in her arms and rock him to sleep._

_He sat next to a glossy black droid, as someone droned through the service, and his mind had begun to wander when his father began to shout. “It was murder! Snoke had her killed, she was…!”_

* * *

_...nothing._ He lost the thread of the memory and couldn’t pick it up again. He opened his eyes and found his head being lifted, then put back on the ground. Rey stood and paced the room a couple times, her body language speaking of agitation. She finally stopped and shook her head. “I think it’s time for a break.”

“I’d rather get it over with, if it’s all the same to you.”

“No, it’s not. Do you even realize how long we’ve been at this?” she asked. 

“...no.”

“It’s been nearly six hours.”

His mind struggled to wrap itself around the fact. “Oh.”

“I’ll have you sent something to eat, and a guard will take you to a ‘fresher. I’ll give you an hour, and then I’ll be back.”

He nodded, still trying to process the memories that had been pulled to the surface. “Rey?”

“Yes?”

“Even if things...turn out badly. Uhm. Thank you.”

He couldn’t read her expression, but she nodded in acknowledgement and scanned her way out.

Food was a bland meal, but he wasn’t about to complain. A guard took him to the ‘fresher, as he’d been promised, and he took the opportunity to reach out with his mind in an attempt to find Ben.

Worry grew in his chest when he found the liminal space empty. He didn’t have long to dwell on it as Rey returned and they dove back in.

* * *

These memories hurt. They ached, bone deep. They were new, something he’d never seen before, not in dreams or waking visions. 

_A dark shape, tall and willowy. A man with smooth grey skin and empty eyes, accompanied by a middle-aged woman with dark hair and strange sigils down her arm. His father wearily relinquishing his grip on his shoulder in defeat._

_Lying in a bed as the grey man does something, the pads of his fingers pressing, crushing his temples. He’s scared, terrified even. His father turns his back on him, leaves him to the grey man. The feeling of attachment, a sensation he’d only ever thought of when his mother had spoken of the gift that ran in their family, draining away, closing off like a tunnel collapsing. The last sensations of love and caring and connectedness he’d felt since his mother had died, slipping away and fading into the void._

_Coming back around and finding himself detached from everything he’d ever cared about, as though unable to touch the people most important to him._

_From then on, his mother is...blurry. Memories of his memories depict her indistinctly, and he feels hollow, as though someone has scooped his insides out with a spoon. He knows his father is angry. He hates him. He blames him for his mother’s death. Somehow, he is at fault, and he feels the sting of disdain in every word the man says to him._

_The Academy is...lonely. He’s smaller than the others, and a source of constant disappointment to his father._

_To spite the old man, he spends every waking hour working. He learns and adapts, and uses his strengths to their best advantage. He may not be physically imposing, but strategically it gives him an advantage. The other cadets underestimate him, but not for long._

_When he graduates top of his class and takes up his first command, his father is notably missing from the ceremony._

_It doesn’t matter. He’s already alight with the desire to upstage the Commandant, and nothing is going to stand in his way._

* * *

He opened his eyes as they seemed to flood with unwanted tears, trying desperately to breathe as his body seized up and he felt the echoes of that awful, all encompassing loneliness, a sensation he could now recognize as an absence of the Force. 

Rey’s eyes were wide as she looked down at him, shaking her head. “Shhh, shhhh, it’s…alright. You’re here, it’s alright.” Perhaps unintentionally, she stroked a hand through his hair, trying to soothe the odd fraying of his nerves.

He lay flat on the mat with his head cradled on her crossed legs, the folds of her robes softening the bones of her ankles and keeping them from digging into his neck too badly. All he could do was wait for her to dive back in and bring up old memories, like a pearl diver. Instead, she continued to stroke his hair as he calmed.

“Do you understand what you’re remembering?”

“I...think so.”

“You’re Force sensitive,” she said.

“Yes, we’ve been over this. Ben told me.”

She frowned. “Did you know before he told you?”

“I have no recollection of it whatsoever. Although what we just pulled up...that felt the same. I think I knew when I was very young. And then it...went away. I couldn’t feel it anymore.”

“From what I saw, that man, the one you remembered, he blocked your access to the Force.”

Genesis closed his eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“That’s the only explanation I can think of.” She was somber.

“What does that mean? Why would someone do that?”

“They didn’t want you to be able to access the Force.”

His eyes snapped open and he managed a glare. “I get that. But why?”

“The Force can be a weapon, when wielded properly. Someone wanted to take that away from you.”

“Like declawing a Loth cat,” he said.

“You were a threat.”

“I was a child.”

“Then they were afraid you would grow into a threat.”

“But to who?!” his frustration began to boil over and he sat up. 

Rey shook her head. “I don’t know. But I think they ought to be afraid now that you know.”

* * *

When it was finally done, when they’d reviewed the memories she thought most pertinent, she released him and sat back on her haunches. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling hollow and small. Rey was quiet, and it was sickeningly clear that this woman could well be judge, jury, and executioner all in one.

It occurred to him that he should be afraid. Maybe he was.

He didn’t move even as she sat back down on the mat. He wasn’t sure he had the strength. He closed his eyes again, feeling the weight of guilt slowly crush him as he waited for her to give a verdict.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I said…I said I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. “Hux…I don’t think he really deserved pity, or empathy, or…anything but a slow, painful death, really. For Starkiller alone, he deserved nothing but suffering of his own.”

His heart sank in his chest. “I understand. There’s not much more I can do than take responsibility for what I’ve done, I just don’t want Ben to suffer for it.”

Rey flopped back on the mat, legs sprawling in exhaustion. “But…at the same time, you’re not that man anymore. You’ve lost over a decade of your life. It’s like your mind has...reverted to before you were named General, plus the last few months since Ben messed about in your head.” She shook her head and waved her hand. “It’s...messy. Hux is still to blame for the Hosnian system, but your mind...it isn’t the mind of that man. I felt what you felt when you found out, I felt what you feel now. You’re…” she struggled for words. “You’re eating yourself alive with the guilt, and that doesn’t feel like the response General Hux ought to have had. That’s you back before you became him.”

He wanted to throw up. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about it, what matters is that a lot of people are dead and it’s my fault.”

Rey snorted, a bitter, heartbroken sound. “You know, I’m not sure what to make of you. Self-loathing doesn’t seem to suit you.”

“I deserve worse.”

“Who’s to say what you deserve at this point? Executing you isn’t going to bring them back.” Rey clenched her jaw. “I’m going to clear you.”

“What?” He sat up, staring at her in shock.

“I’m going to give my approval for your restricted release. You’ll stay with us, but you won’t be sent to the Resistance proper and put on trial. Not immediately. You’ll stay here and you’ll help us find a way to take down the Order. You put one toe out of line, that can change at any time. But for now, I think you should stay.” She climbed to her feet. “There’s one more person we need to speak to first, though. Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's good to be back.
> 
> Comments, questions, and critiques always welcome.
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr at versus-verses


	9. Acid-Base Neutralization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all.  
> I think I’ve struggled with this particular chapter more than any other I’ve ever written, ofic or fanfic. I’ve been pile of crippling self-criticism for the last…oh, 8+ months or so, and I really felt that I wasn’t making the story do what I want it to…to the point that I’ve rewritten this chapter six times, and completely deleted it and started from scratch three of those times.  
> So.  
> Here we are, months and more than 40k of scrapped garbage later, and I’ve got a chapter that I’m…ultimately dissatisfied with. Not much went as I originally planned. There are still lose ends. This chapter in particular may not be the most representative sample of my writing ability ever produced. But if I don’t post this stupid thing before tlj it’s never going to go up, and I’m never going to have a sense of closure so…yeah.  
> That being said, the final chapter and the epilogue are done. And, not to sound full of myself, but they’re good, because the one and only thing I can write well is action, and there’s a whole lot of action. That’s where everything went right. Maybe think of them as an apology for this mess.  
> There’s no long wait, they’re coming soon (as soon as I get the guts to put them up). They will go up, damnit. I just have to talk myself out of messing with them anymore.  
> I’d like to say thank you now to every single one of you that’s stuck it out through this entire story. It was conceived as a fun little thing and turned into a big ol’ pile of stress, and all of my intentions with the schedule went out the window between life and work and me not feeling I was getting the story across properly. I have to apologize for promising things I very much did not deliver, but also, <3 <3 <3 for all the support and comments.  
> Alright.  
> Let’s do this.  
> -S

Kylo woke to splintering pain through his arm, shoulder, and ribs, barely blunted by a haze of drugs. Mouth, he had a mouth but it was dry and didn’t seem to work. Where his mind should have strung words together into a sentence, it came out jumbled, his tongue sticking and refusing to move as it ought to.

A human shaped blur approached, making ‘shhh’ing noises as they checked something out of his field of vision, then the IV that had been fed into the crook of his good arm. A couple taps on the line, the unnatural glow of a datapad. A dissatisfied noise, and then the sickening feeling of the line being removed. After an indeterminate time, it was replaced with a strong prick and a slide under his skin that made his stomach turn. When the line was reaffixed to the figure’s satisfaction, they turned and left, disappearing from Kylo’s field of vision.

Before long, numbness crept in and he slept.

* * *

The next time he remembered waking, he found a man sitting in the chair by the wall. He wore plainclothes but held himself in a manner Kylo pegged as military. Almost certainly an officer of some sort.

He slowly tried to catalogue the situation as he surfaced to full consciousness. It was difficult as the drugs slowly faded, but with time he was able to look at his situation. He’d been cuffed to the gurney by one wrist and one bicep, as well as buckled down by heavy straps that appeared to be military grade. As he tested the restraints, he found them unexpectedly Force-resistant. They didn’t block his access to the Force, but they certainly seemed to suppress it, unless that was an aftereffect of the drugs.

That left the matter of the amputation. He’d known it was coming. Somehow, he’d had a sense of it even when he’d been bitten by the screamer. The urge to laugh at the universe’s terrible sense of irony welled up in him, and he bit down on it with a wince. Like his grandfather and his uncle, it was something of a Skywalker…tradition? Curse? Whatever it was, it hadn’t skipped him.

“You’re awake.” The man rose from his chair, flipping through information on a datapad. “Good. I’ve been instructed to bring you up to speed.”

“Who are you?” The sedative had nearly worn off and Kylo found his tongue once again willing to form words. He looked at the man more carefully and came to the same conclusion as before. Definitely an officer.

“It doesn’t matter.” The officer gave him a look of disdain before reading off a prepared statement from the datapad. “Your colleague has willingly surrendered any and all information in exchange for your medical care. He worked with one of the jedi, and he’s fulfilled his part of the bargain. As of right now, the both of you are in a precarious position. Your fates will be determined by your willingness to comply.”

Nausea rose, a clammy chill spreading across his skin. “I have information.”

“Then you’ll give it to us, and we’ll see what can be done.”

“No. I’ll give it to you in exchange for a guarantee of his unconditional safety.”

The officer snorted. “What could you possibly have that you think is worth that?”

“Plenty of material about the Order.”

“Not good enough. We already knew most of what he was able to tell us.”

“He has no memory.”

“The jedi was able to dig enough out of the back of his mind.”

“Snoke.” Kylo fought to keep the tinge of desperation out of his voice. “I have info on Snoke.”

“Our sources say he’s hardly a threat, no more than a figurehe…”

“Her. Snoke is a woman.” He looked at the officer, trying to figure out the best angle to negotiate from. He wasn’t going to beg, not to this pathetic moron. “You clearly know next to nothing about her. She’s the biggest threat in the Order. Without question. And the Resistance needs the information I have if they think they’re going to take her down.”

The officer’s expression went cold. “We’ll take that into consideration at your trial.”

Kylo choked on his own spit and a laugh rattled its way out of him as he realized this man had no authority to negotiate. He was there to get as much information as possible before they sent someone with actual authority. “Don’t waste my time. You’ll bring me General Organa or someone who can make decisions, and I’ll consider what I’m willing to give in exchange.

The officer looked like he might spit in his face. “The General will not be negotiating with you.”

“I think you’ll find a lack of cooperation on my part if you send anyone else.”

“You think she cares about you.”

And there, at least, the officer was right. “No, not really.”

“Even your own mother wouldn’t protect a monster like you.”

“I won’t deny that.”

“Then what’s your play?”

“I already told you. Information. Get me someone actually capable of negotiating already.”

The officer was silent for a moment, then snapped, “Fuck you.”

Kylo stared him down, unblinking until the man finally looked away. “You heard me. Go on.”

“You don’t have any authority here.”

“I think you’ll find I have just enough to get by. Whereas you have…nothing. I’ll repeat myself again. Get me someone with the authority to negotiate.”

The guard snarled and left. The door sealed behind him and Kylo slumped back into the flimsy mattress of the gurney and tried to rest. Sleep refused to come.

In time, he was roused by the door sliding open again. A haze of pain blurred his thoughts, but he forced himself to clear his mind, to determine who had come in. There was a faint ripple through the liminal space in his head and he knew it was Hux. A wave of relief seemed to sweep over him, even if Hux was marched in, his wrists clipped behind his back with binders.

Then came the traitor, and the scavenger, and…him.

Something old and ugly roiled in Kylo chest, screeching warning as it flung him into full wakefulness.

“You.”

Luke stared him down in silence. It was impossible to read his face, and his thoughts were blocked completely.

“Have something to say? Something clever? An ‘I told you so’?” Kylo’s voice rose inadvertently, and he hated that he could hear echoes of his old self in it.

Luke shook his head minutely. “There’s nothing to say, Ben.”

Blinding rage ripped through him. Hux pushed past the traitor and slumped across his chest, curling around him as best he could despite the awkwardness of his binder clasped wrists. The others backed away from the gurney, on the defensive as Hux punched him in the sternum with his forehead, dragging Kylo’s attention away from them.

 _Stop._ Hux pressed his forehead to his chest, willing the thought across the liminal space. _Stop. Get this under control. They don’t matter. He doesn’t matter. We have negotiating to do. Breathe. Breathe with me._ His consciousness was sad and tired, but empty of the overwhelming rage that had threatened to drown out the rest of Kylo’s thoughts.

Kylo took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to block everything but Hux out. It took time, but the quiet of Hux’s mind helped him breathe through it, almost like meditating. He focused on the weight of Hux’s head on his chest until the rage faded.

When he opened his eyes again, the others had dropped their defenses a fair amount. The traitor had taken up a position on the far side of the room, watching them both carefully. The scavenger stood near the wall, present but her focus seemingly elsewhere. Both of them radiated eerily strong Force signatures, stronger even than Luke, who sat in the corner watching him with a carefully blank expression.

Kylo suppressed a shudder. This couldn’t possibly end well.

They had made a mistake. Hux had made a mistake of thinking they could negotiate with them and it would probably be a death sentence _._ Kylo knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight all three of them off, and Hux was barely trained in the Force. They were outmatched, outclassed, and outmaneuvered, and they had walked into this position without putting up a fight. All he had to negotiate with was information, territory that never been one of his strengths. For the first time since they’d left, he ached to go back to the familiarity of the _Finalizer_.

He reached into the liminal space. _They’re going to kill you._

Hux turned to look at him intently. His eyes were disturbingly clear and he didn’t flinch, as if he already knew. As Kylo reached further into the link between them, he couldn’t find any fear. _I’ll be alright. How are you feeling?_

_Shitty._

_Clearly._ Hux cracked the barest hint of a smile. _But you’re awake. And alive._

A sick feeling surged, an abrupt hot-cold feeling and a wave of nausea. Kylo slumped into the excuse for a mattress and tried to breathe, waiting for it to pass. “They said the sedatives would probably do a number on you. Apparently they have adverse side effects on Force users. They didn’t have anything else on hand though, so it was that or nothing,” Rey said by way of explanation. The next wave of nausea rose up and Kylo’s mouth tasted faintly of acid.

Luke rose from where he’d been seated. “So. How soon is too soon to address the longstanding issue we’ve got going on here?”

“Avoiding it isn’t going to help,” Hux said quickly, leaning on Kylo as if to comfort him. It failed in that respect, but it did prove enough to keep him grounded.

Kylo looked at each of them in turn, then returned to his uncle with the best glare he could muster. “Care to explain where we stand?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Kylo snapped.

“I wanted to see you.” And that was it. Luke left, sweeping out the door without further comment. 

The person that replaced him wasn’t entirely unexpected. Kylo looked at her and his mind seemed to go blank. When it finally came up with a response, his voice cracked upon delivery. “Get out.”

“You’re not in a position to negotiate.” His mother crossed her arms across his chest, and the sickening weight on his chest seemed to triple, making it hard to breathe.

“The _only_ position I’m in is to negotiate.” His voice felt brittle, like it would fail entirely if he continued.

He was tired. Stars, he was so tired. He’d known when he’d seen Han that neither of them were eternally young, but he’d never quite been able to wrap his head around the idea that Leia Organa, of all people, had aged. In his mind, she’d maintained the same youthful strength he remembered from his childhood, but that was a far cry from the woman that stood over him. That woman had the same frown, the same angry cross-armed stance his mother had, but she was too different. Her Force signature had faded with age, much the way Luke’s had.

Her expression was as carefully blank as Luke’s. “You requested me and here I am. Lieutenant Kerlo said you have information and are willing to negotiate.”

“You know, I’m not feeling particularly compliant right now.” The moment it was out, he shied away from the echoes of his old life again. It seemed that his old mannerisms were resurfacing, and it left a bad taste that wasn’t bile in his mouth.

She frowned. “The General here has been cooperative in obtaining lifesaving medical care for you. At the very least you could be grateful.”

“You manipulated him because he doesn’t know who you are.”

“Seems like he didn’t know who you were either,” she snapped back. “But he does now. That was included in the paperwork.”

Hux watched the exchange with a sharp expression, then stood with her final comment, looking tired. _You should have told me. At least then I wouldn’t have gone into this blind._

_I’m sorry._

_I’ve made a number of mistakes, in terms of negotiating. Rey knows everything I know, I have nothing left to bargain with._

_Rey?_

_The jedi. The girl._

Kylo looked at the scavenger, who had become one of the most dangerous tools the Resistance had at their disposal. She appeared unassuming, but beneath the surface her Force signature showed through clearly. “You know, you’ve made yourself a nuisance.”

She shot him a grin, but there was nothing friendly about it. It was more like a predator showing its teeth. “Good to see you too. The face looks like it healed up well enough.”

He glared, then directed his attention to the traitor, who stood next to her, watching the exchange warily. “So. You survived.”

The former Stormtrooper returned the look, unflinching. “I could say the same about you. Last I heard, Rey trashed your sorry ass and left you bleeding out in the snow on Starkiller Base.”

“You say that like you weren’t in the same position.”

“Fuck you,” he snapped, looking between Kylo and Hux. “You know what? Fuck you, fuck both of you, and fuck the First Order.” He took a deep breath and got himself back under control, glancing the General guiltily. “That’s it. That’s all I’m going to say right now, but I’ve waited a long time to say that.”

”By all means, Finn, feel free to keep going once I’ve said my piece.” She gave him what might have been a faint smile. “But for now, if the two of you would be so kind as to take our guest to the hall for a time, I’d like to speak to Ben privately. I’ll send word when you can bring him back.”

Rey stepped in with a, “Yes ma’am,” before anyone could object. Hux regained his feet and followed her out with a worried look behind him at Kylo. Finn tailed them, closing the door behind.

His mother stared down at him until he caved and spoke first. “General.”

“Don’t ‘General’ me, Ben.” She pursed her lips and looked around the room, grabbing the chair Luke had occupied and pulling it up next to the gurney. “There are a lot of things I’d like to say to you, but this isn’t the time.”

“Clearly. As I told Kerlo…”

“You want to negotiate.” She leaned forward. “You forget, you learned your earliest diplomatic strategies at _my_ knee. Don’t get ahead of yourself until you know what’s on the table.”

A laugh cracked from Kylo’s throat. “Alright, fine. You tell me what you’re offering.”

“Nothing yet. Not until we know more about what _you_ offer. So.” She shifted and settled in. “We promised your safety and medical care to Hux in exchange for everything useful he knew. And I mean everything. Rey’s been through his head, thoroughly. Everything he knew, and some things he didn’t actually remember, we now know. Our conditions for his request have been met, and he’s secured your safety. His own life, however, is forfeit. Of those that know he’s in our custody, there are some that believe he could continue to prove useful, and others that believe he should be sent to headquarters and put to trial immediately. You and I both know, if he’s publicly turned over to the Resistance proper, he’s a dead man.”

Kylo watched, trying to get some kind of read on her but finding it impossible. “And what do you think?

She snorted. “I hate him on principle but I’m trying to see this,” she waved her hand in an encompassing gesture, “as a strategic advantage. He’s Force sensitive and seems to have only just discovered it himself, and the guilt of what he’s done is eating him alive. I think he’d do anything we asked if we framed it in a way that might provide some sort of…redemption, in his mind.”

“You want to use him.”

“Of course I do. And therefore I don’t want him dead. Not yet.” She stared him down, her eyes like durasteel. “That’s about the best you’re going to get from me with regards to letting a monster like him live.”

He gritted his teeth. “You’ve always been so strategic, General. At least that hasn’t changed.”

“Ben. Listen to me. The only people in the galaxy that know where you two are, and most that know you’re alive, are here on this planet. I’m trying to offer you a chance.”

“That’s rather sentimental of you.”

“Call it weakness, then, if you will. My point is, this is it. Here and now, this is the last chance you’re going to have to make a choice.”

“You know I’m far past the point of redemption.”

“Your uncle thinks otherwise.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Sarcasm was easier than admitting he’d betrayed the person that had attempted to help him when he was young. “Uncle Luke, who managed to see the last sliver of light in the dark heart of the Empire.” He snorted. “You and I both know that’s nonsense. I don’t even believe it, and we’re talking about _me_. You don’t believe it either.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Then what are you asking for? Really?” He let himself breathe out, like the compression on his chest had eased. “I made my choices. A lot of them were wrong, or grey, or people just didn’t like them. But I made them, and they can’t be changed.”

She leaned forward, her eyes dangerous. “ _You_ don’t even believe you deserve another chance.”

“No. Of course I don’t.” Bile rose in the back of his throat. There. It was out in the open.

“Then what do you want?”

“I want a guarantee of Hux’s safety.”

“Impossible.”

“Then I want Snoke’s head,” he snapped.

“We’re working on that, we need information to make it a reality.”

“See, now we both have something the other wants. I have the information you need to go after Snoke and you can see to it that Snoke dies and Hux lives through this.”

She considered for a long moment and then stood up, shaking her head. “This conversation isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Clearly.”

She turned to the door.

“Nothing you want to air? After all this time?”

“Do _not_ test me, Ben.”

The old anger that ought to have risen felt flat and burned out, bitter and ashy in his mouth. “Don’t ‘Ben’ me. You know what I mean. Better have it out now, at least that way we can go back to hating each other in relative peace.”

“I will never understand you. And I no longer want to.” Anger. Pure, cold anger. Then…control. Her eyes were distant and sad. “I didn’t give up on you, you know. The whole time, even after you were taken, I thought we could get you back. Luke was angry, and rightfully so, but he swore we could find some spark of good left in you, even if you’d turned. This…” she made a vague motion at him, “was never how it was supposed to go.”

“Yeah, well, as we’ve both seen, life’s disappointing. And, as a point of clarification, I went to Snoke willingly. The Knights simply came to retrieve me. It was my choice, I wasn’t ‘taken’ as you so aptly put it.”

For a moment, once the initial disgust faded, he thought she might cry. Instead, she went for righteous fury. “You were supposed to be the start of a new Jedi Order. You were supposed to help us bring…justice…” she stumbled over her words, “stability, back to the galaxy!”

“Funny how that works.”

When she moved, she moved fast, slapping him across the face with in audible _crack_ , enough to surprise him and leave the left side of his face on fire. “You could have been so much more,” she snarled.

When the shock wore off, the old anger finally began to rise to the surface, sluggish to start but spurred to life by pain. He couldn’t help but salt the wound. “I’m not the only one who could have done more. You could have given a damn and protected me.”

She went from angry to aghast in seconds. “What were we supposed to do?”

“You _knew._ You _knew_ Snoke was after me, you were in my head all the time when I was young and you never gave boundaries a second thought. You groomed me to accept that as normal, and you had to have known Snoke was there, even if it was faint. _And you did nothing!”_

She gathered herself and tried to stay civil. “You could just as easily have asked for help.”

“I was _a child!”_

“That doesn’t excuse your actions.”

“Not now it doesn’t. But back then? What I did was as much from your failure to protect me and Luke’s failure to protect me as it was from Snoke’s influence and my own poor choices. You both knew, and you did _nothing.”_ He kept his temper in check, but only just.

“You’ve slipped so far to the dark that you _killed your own father_ , do you really think there was anything we could’ve done?” Her voice shook with rage.

“ _You could have tried!”_ It burst from him, bitterness at the decades of helplessness in the hands of a monster he didn’t understand. He instinctively tried to push himself up from the bed to lunge at her, pulling up short as the restraints held him down. “You could’ve tried to protect me when I was still a kid, when Snoke was rooting around in my head and warping my thoughts, you could have _warned_ me. You could have figured out how she was contacting me and found a way to block it, you could have _tried.”_

She stopped dead. “…how Snoke was contacting you?”

A weird, bitter laugh bubbled up against his will. “Hux figured it out in a matter of weeks. The kyber crystal, the old warped thing I found on Anthan Prime, that was how she really got in my head. There was a voice and I thought that was…normal. Uncle Luke talked about kyber crystals speaking to their Jedi, and it never occurred to me that he didn’t mean like that.”

She sat back down, unblinking. The way she folded into the chair was more of a collapse than anything. “One of…one of the old kyber crystals you collected?”

“Yeah. Snoke told me it was Vader’s. I guess I don’t know if it actually was, but I was a kid. The voice told me it was only right that I inherit it, and it talked to me all the time.” He laughed again, unable to keep it down. Something about the situation was sickeningly funny, and even though laughing was entirely the wrong reaction, the relief of finally telling her was like a weight off his chest. “And I was a kid, I thought it was my friend and was too dumb or too gullible to question it.”

The silence crept over them, cloying and insidious. Her eyes were wet now, there was no mistaking it. She looked absolutely wretched, and part of him gloried in the idea that she finally understood a fraction of what he’d been through. “You never knew? Never felt it at all?”

She shook her head and struggled for words. “I could feel…something, it wasn’t just me, Luke felt it too, but we could never pin it down. We just thought…it was you.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “It got stronger as you grew more and more connected to the Force, and…it felt off. But even before you were born, something felt off. I just thought…it was your connection to the Force growing.”

“Yeah. You were wrong. Snoke got in my head early, and she shaped me as she wanted from that point on.”

“When did you…” she stopped dead. “She?”

Kylo took a deep breath and leashed in everything he wanted to say, forcing himself to calm. Hux’s life depended on this, even though he’d finally hit a wall, even though he was scraping by on the last dregs of energy leftover from the flare of anger. “I have information about Snoke, and I’m willing to barter with it.”

“Your demands are not negotiable.”

“They are now.” He shifted, meeting her eyes. “And hell if I won’t withhold information to get what I want.”

For a moment he thought she would respond, the sort of witty repartee she’d always managed when he’d been young. Instead, she froze. She closed her eyes, and he could distantly feel her reach for the Force.

Then she was gone, walking from the room with a shocking amount of restraint.

* * *

An hour later, she was back. Rey and Finn brought Hux back shortly after she left, and the four of them sat in the room in awkward silence.

The General had calmed down and held herself with all the poise Kylo expected from her from the start. “Right. This is already going better than I’d expected.”

“Did you expect me to try to kill you?” Kylo made a vague motion to the restraints, which ached where they had left bruises.

“It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.”

“So where do we go from here?” Hux asked. He sat at the side of the gurney, unwilling to leave Kylo’s side unless it was necessary.

Leia shook her head and paced the room, crossing her arms. “For the time being, your presence here, the both of you, is highly classified information. With the information you supposedly have, you could prove instrumental to stopping Snoke. We can’t afford to throw that chance away, so you’ll remain here. Hux,” she addressed him with a hint of distaste, “has already proven himself useful. So it’ll depend on you, Ben.”

“We need to discuss it,” Kylo said. Hux nodded in agreement.

She went to the door. “Fine. The two of you talk things over. I’ll prewarn you, though. Rey and Finn were good enough to take guard, and you’ll find that the room is armed. If you attempt to escape, you won’t make it out alive. I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll talk more then.”

She left, the door sliding shut behind her and leaving them in silence. Hux sat, watching him.

“Well?” Kylo asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“Regretting letting them call the Resistance down on us now, huh?”

Hux bristled. “Somewhat. I might have made a different decision if I’d known the consequences.”

“What’s done is done.”

That was it, really. They were both too tired to talk much more. In the end, Hux crawled into the cot alongside him. His presence was a level, a sort of weight that kept him steady.

They both slept.

* * *

Two days passed before she returned. Hux was permitted to visit under armed guard, although he did little more than sit at the bedside in silence.

The second day, the medics came to check on the progress of the amputation site. With the regular application of bacta, the implants for prosthetic attachment were already showing signs of healing, and though the skin was red and swollen, it showed no sign of further infection. The painkillers still blurred the world around him, but Hux was a steady point he could focus on.

It was afternoon when the general returned, with Finn at her side. “We’ve made a decision, assuming the two of you are willing to take the deal.”

Through the liminal space Hux radiated anxiety, but he gave her a tight smile and braced for their offer. “You make it sound like we’re the ones driving a hard bargain here.”

The general stared at him for a long moment, then pursed her lips. “You’ve presented as Force-sensitive and were clearly an excellent strategist when you were with the Order. I’m not fond of bargaining with psychopathic mass murderers, but you won’t be the first. And Rey thinks that man is…dead, for lack of a better word. I’m willing to offer you a deal if you successfully help us end the war and kill Snoke.”

Upfront, it sounded reasonable. The general watched Hux carefully. “And when we do?”

She frowned. “Awful sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“If I’m as good at this sort of thing as people think I am, I ought to act the part, yes?”

Kylo couldn’t see her face from where he sat, but he had the strange feeling she almost cracked a smile. “Fine. _When_ you help us take Snoke down and successfully turn her fall into a future where the Order and what’s left of the New Republic can function together, without the war and bloodshed, you can stay dead to galactic record.” She reluctantly handed a datapad to him.

“I take it you fully understand the position I’m in, don’t you General?”

She sat down across the small bedside table from him, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “I believe so, but why don’t you enlighten me?”

Hux hesitated for a moment, then swiped the datapad on, scrolling through text and processing information with a speed and skill Kylo recognized from his days as General. “I find myself, as they say, stuck between a star and a black hole.”

“Pardon me if I can’t sympathize,” she said drily.

“I can’t blame you. Still, cutting a deal with either of us, it feels like a certain amount of sympathy. What do you want?”

“You aid us in bringing Snoke down as quickly as possible, be it through information or in combat. We neutralize the Order or get someone in a position of leadership that is willing to negotiate peace,” she said.

“You aid us by any means necessary, and in return, we don’t kill you immediately,” Finn said, more blunt than the General.

She shrugged. “That’s the core of it. Strategy, not sympathy. Except, perhaps, from Rey. As she’s the only one that’s been in your head, she’s got the best perspective on it.”

“And what does she think?”

There was an awkward pause before she said, “She thinks we should use your knowledge and skills to our advantage. I don’t like it, but Rey has had…uncomfortably good judgment in the past. She’s wise beyond her years, and perhaps just enough off-beat that she makes an aging general question her methods.”

“I still feel there’s more to it.”

The General stared him down. “I want Ben’s compliance. In order to get it, I need to be able to promise him your safety. To promise him your safety, I need your compliance as well.”

“So my life is on the line to secure his obedience.”

She sat back in her chair and snorted. “We’re all bartering chips in the end. Some of us are a bit more valuable, but that’s how it is. We want the information Ben has, and you both have skills we could use, which Rey is in favor of.”

“And what do you think?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I think you’re untrustworthy, but that your skills would prove an asset. If nothing else, your cooperation will ensure Ben’s, and we want the intel he claims to have.” They sat in silence for a time as Hux scanned through the documentation on the datapad. Kylo’s stomach twisted with unease.

“What if I say no?”

“We turn you over to the surviving factions of the former New Republic. If they knew you were alive, they’d demand a trial and execution. Any trial would be nothing more than a show of the proceedings.”

“Of course.”

“What’s the catch?” Kylo asked. “I can feel there’s something you’re not telling us. If you want transparency, give us the same.”

Her expression went cold. “Not really a catch. Insurance. While you were under for surgery, we had them implant an explosive cartridge, one that can be activated by remote control. I and one of my most trusted lieutenants have the ability to blow it should you disobey or attempt to escape.”

Kylo felt the bile rise in his throat. “You couldn’t do it.”

“You killed your father, Ben. What makes you think I wouldn’t? Family bonds?” Her voice tipped up in an angry, sardonic tilt.

“That isn’t you.”

She didn’t budge. “Let’s make this very clear. I’ve been fighting wars since the day I was born. I didn’t know it then, but I was. I’m tired of seeing everything ripped apart by violence and I will do whatever it takes to end this.” She stared him down in silence, then finally spoke again. “And if it takes killing the man I used to call my son to do it, so be it.”

Kylo bit down on the flare of rage that surged up his throat. “Fine. You’ve got your attack dog leashed. What about _him_? Is he chipped too?”

“I think he should be.”

“No.” On this, he wasn’t going to budge. He could feel her at the edges of his consciousness, prodding with the Force and trying to feel out the shape of his thoughts. He reached for Hux’s help and gathered barriers around himself, building walls to keep her out.

Puzzlement slowly wrote itself across her face as she realized he was no longer easy to read and she sighed. “I suspected you’d say that. In that case, if either of you put a toe out of line, your life is forfeit. If Hux attempts to escape or does anything out of line, Finn, you and the rest of the staff will have my explicit permission to stop him however you deem necessary. That includes up to and including the use of lethal force.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Ben? I need a yes or no.” He looked at Hux for a long moment, realized that they only stood a chance if they stuck together, and nodded yes. She looked tired. “Good. We’ll determine what privileges they will be permitted this week, but in the meantime, they are to be under armed guard at all times.”

“With all due respect ma’am, Rey and I ought to continue our training. Babysitting these two is a waste of our time,” Finn said, his voice low and angry.

“I understand. I’ll push for a decision as soon as possible. Can you give me two days to get this all straightened out?”

Finn gave her a worried look. “Yeah. I think we can do that.”

* * *

The next day, the scavenger came early. Rey looked much the same as she had when they had fought on Starkiller, but there was something about her that he couldn’t quite pin down. She looked healthier, properly fed, but that wasn’t it.

“Where’s Genesis this morning?”

“I’d assume he’s still in his cell. Why are you the only one that calls him that?” Kylo countered.

“Because that’s who he is. I’ve been in his head, I felt it. Just because other people don’t understand that doesn’t mean I have to follow the same pattern.” She shrugged, sitting down in the corner and moving to assume a meditative stance. She frowned and shifted trying to get comfortable, but she eventually climbed back to her feet. “Why don’t you call him that anymore?”

“It’s not his…I mean…”

“You should call him Genesis.”

“Why would I do that, he knows who…”

“I know the two of you have some sort of connection. Have you ever felt his reaction to being called Hux?”

“I don’t…think so, no?”

She climbed up onto the gurney, shifting his legs aside to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “You should.”

Kylo sighed. “Fine. Why are you here?”

“The general would like me to start interrogating you, although I suspect it’s not going to be quite as easy as the last one. There’s quite a bit more information she’s looking for.”

“You want in my head.”

She grimaced. “Quite frankly, I’d rather not, but we need to know you aren’t lying.”

Kylo braced himself, preparing for the mental onslaught that was sure to come. “You can try.”

“Not today, and I would rather it not be as invasive as some. I don’t look favorably on the practice of ripping information from people’s minds without their permission.” She stared him down pointedly, as if waiting for an apology.

“Are you even going to believe me if I apologize?”

“No, but it would be a step in the right direction.”

“I’m sorry. And unless the situation demands it, I won’t do it again.”

She scowled. “You’re shit at apologies.”

“But honest.”

“Ugh. Fine.” She took a deep breath. “We’ll get started, then. Today I just want to get an idea of how you like to recall things.”

And that was all she asked of him. They sat together for the better part of two hours, simply breathing and connecting through the Force, drawing up easy memories as she prompted him. Lunch the day before. The color of her tunic. The sound of a lightsaber. In fact, Kylo had almost forgotten Rey was there until she spoke again, rising from her meditative pose. “Time for me to go. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Kylo was left alone in the room, still cuffed to the gurney. Once every three hours or so, a medic would check in on him, but otherwise he sank into the silence, appreciating it in a way he’d never been able to.

The next day, two medics came in to take measurements and work on adjustments to the rapidly-healing implants. That evening, Rey came by with the same medics. They were wary as they explained the fitting process to Kylo, uncertain of how he would react to their plan. They seemed slightly perturbed when he laughed and bit out a sarcastic comment about it being family tradition.

One of the medics, a woman by the name of Quilgard, frowned as she prepared to make the first full electronic connections in has arm. “This is going to sting a bit, just stay still…”

As the connection was made, bolts of pain shot up his arm, lighting his nerves on fire from the wrist that was no longer there up through his shoulder and across his chest. In his weakened state, the pain was dizzying even as he forced himself to breathe through it. It was only through sheer force of will that he held himself together, grinding his teeth until it was done. They ran diagnostics for the better part of an hour after.

When they left, Rey remained. She watched him warily, and he was struck by how the tables had turned. It felt so long ago, but this time he was the one strapped to a table and in pain.

They sat in silence for a time. He could feel her consciousness achieve a state of meditation, and it was almost comfortable until she broke the silence. “What do you believe in?”

“What?”

“I believe in the Force, and in death, and myself. What do you believe in anymore? You clearly don’t believe in the Order.”

He considered the question. “The Force. Death, as you said, but not quite…the way you do, I don’t think.” He paused. “Hux. Or Genesis.”

She attempted to flatten out the scratchy sheet that had caught under some of the straps. “I think Hux as you knew him is dead.”

“Clearly.”

“I think the person that is left is…someone else. Although I also think some of his memories are still there, residual and deep. Mostly unhelpful.”

“What do you think of him?”

“As a person? Now?” She shifted. “He’s interesting. So much of his exposure to the Force has come through you, and the two of you have learned to work in tandem like Finn and I. You balance each other. But with the way he keeps a measure of control, how things have to be in order, I would say he leans toward what would historically have been called the Light more than I do. Not as much as Finn, but…close. Whereas you and I…there’s a reason Luke fears what we can do.”

“Luke fears what he can’t understand.”

“With good reason. I can reach into the deeper parts of the Force, same as you.” She shot him a grin. “Maybe even deeper than you, once Finn and I learn how to handle it together.”

Kylo stared at her, finally understanding what he’d seen in her from the beginning. “You’re a darksider.”

She frowned. “Not…exactly. The Light and Dark sides of the Force, as they used to be taught, are completely outdated concepts.”

Kylo snorted. “I think you’ll find that almost everyone who’s ever studied the Force would disagree, but sure. Let’s just say they are. What would you propose instead?”

“It’s not my idea, it’s Luke’s. My skills are more inclined toward what would have been called the Dark side, but Luke’s actually got a different theory. The sides of the Force aren’t necessarily Dark and Light, they’re more like…” she made an odd gesture, one hand pushing violently away from her, the other drawing closer to her chest, “power and control.”

Kylo felt his skin crawl. It made too much sense. “With the Dark side being power, and the Light being control?”

“Sort of. It’s quite interesting. You should sit down and talk to him about it. Rather brilliant, actually.”

“And you think Hux leans more toward…control.”

“I think _Genesis_ does, without question.” She emphasized his name. “And I think he’s been acting as a counterweight for you. It’s all about balance. You and I, we’re wells of power. We can draw on the Force as deeply as we want, like so many traditional Dark side users. But the easiest way to access the Force is through anger, and in that, we run the risk of losing ourselves. Being consumed or corrupted by the living Force. The deeper we dive, the harder it is to find the surface when we want to come back.” Her hands danced across the threads coming loose from the cuff of her pants, twisting them into a braid without a second thought. “It’s all about balance.”

“It’s…a very different philosophy, but it seems to…sort of make sense.”

“As I said, you should sit down and talk to him about it sometime.”

He snorted. “I don’t think Luke wants to talk to me.”

She looked at him curiously. “I think you might be surprised.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a time, until Rey perked up. “Once they’ve decided to clear you, you should come see him with me.”

“What?”

“Ah. Right. That starts tomorrow. It’ll be fine, don’t worry, the General just needs as much information as possible in order to make...informed decisions.”

“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”

“There’s nothing I’ll do to you that’s any worse than what you did to me. If you relax and give me the information I need willingly, it’ll be over before you know it.”

* * *

In some ways, Rey was right. The easy memories he pulled to the surface of his mind and gave up without a fight. He corroborated the story she had already gotten from Hux.

But Snoke…

Rey honed in on his worst memories and unearthed them, dragging them to the forefront of his mind to re-experience them. It left him shaking. Reliving the voice in his head growing up, the shadow that had hovered over him the last few years, and finally, the pain and fear of Moraband.

When it was all over, he tried desperately to bury the memories again, but they lingered. His skin felt too tight, dry and hot as though it had shriveled up and was peeling off.

Rey threw mental walls up, making it impossible to get a read on her thoughts through the Force. Her expression, something between disgust and pity, made him want to crawl in a hole and die. “That’s all for today. I think I’ve got all they need,” she said.

When she left, the silence rang in his ears. He curled up under a blanket and tried to sleep it off.

He was roused later by the sound of the door clicking open. Between the memories and the pain in his arm as the last of the painkiller wore off, sleep had come in fits and starts, never more than an hour or so at a time.

“Ben?”

“I’m awake.” He took a deep breath and forced himself to open his eyes and sit up.

Rey stood in the doorway, flanked by two officers. She held up a pair of binders. “Up. They’ve made a decision.”

* * *

The conference room he was taken to was plain, filled by a long table with eighteen chairs. Only five of them were occupied, bringing the total number of occupants in the room to nine.

“Our terms.” One of the general’s aides brought him a datapad. “We can go through and review them briefly, but you may still want to read them through. The conditions of your probationary release are as follows…”

“Is there any room for negotiation?” he asked.

She gave him an unimpressed look. “Ben. You were never much good with diplomacy. At this point, it’d probably be best to take our offer.”

“Pending good behavior?” he pushed.

“We’ll see.” She sighed. “Let’s proceed. The chip that you were informed of will remain in place, and should we deem you to be going beyond the terms of your probationary release, we are within our rights to use it. You will accept another chip, a tracker, and will be under constant surveillance. Both of them have hair-triggers for tampering, and any such action will be considered breaking the terms of your release. Additionally, for a probationary period you will be accompanied by an armed guard at all times. Should they fail to follow their orders due you messing about in their head with the Force, you will be placed on lockdown. If they are endangered, the chip will be blown immediately.”

He took a deep breath. “So. You want my privacy, the decision of if I live or die, and my help. What do I get in exchange?”

“You don’t have to be locked in a cell, to start. We don’t inform the New Republic that we have Hux in custody, and in that respect, you both have a temporary reprieve from the witch hunt. You will return to your studies with Luke, who has agreed to collaborate in an attempt to determine what our next step should be. You will remain _in control at all times_ , and you will report to Luke. If I see fit, you will report to me as well. You will follow orders from the Resistance, although you will be operating external to our formal command structure.”

“What happens to Genesis?”

“Hm. That depends on if he agrees to the terms we set forward for him.”

“And those are…?”

“You can ask him after you’ve made a decision and we present him with his options.”

The stark reality of it stared him down. “Not much of a choice.”

The general pursed her lips and stared him down. “For what you’ve done? It’s practically a slap on the wrist.” Returning her stare made him feel like a disobedient child. It was disorienting, and every instinct told him to rebel, to fight back.

But lashing out had never achieved anything. He took a deep breath.

“Fine. Get your tracker.”

* * *

They paired him with a guard named Ranier, an overeager little shit with surprisingly high security clearance that reminded Kylo of too many of his childhood peers. He followed Kylo around like it was his job, which it was. The perpetually drawn blaster felt excessive, though. Internally, Kylo told himself they knew if he made a break for it, whoever was on guard duty would be dead anyway.

The locator chip still smarted in the meat of his left pectoral, close to his heart. He had the sneaking suspicion it monitored his biometrics as well, but there was little to do about that.

“You want a tour of the spaces you’ve got clearance for, or…” the guard drawled.

“I’d like to go see Hu…Genesis.” Kylo caught himself, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that not everyone in this facility knew who Hux was. Best to keep it under wraps, even if Ranier had high clearance.

* * *

Genesis sat on the floor in his cell, head tipped up toward the ceiling. He didn’t stir at the sound of footsteps, only when Kylo went to speak. “How do you feel?”

His eyes flicked open. “Hm. As well as a mass murderer ought to, I suppose.”

“Right.” Kylo sat down just outside the cell. “You know I could break you out of there, right?” It was unnecessary, but worth it to watch Ranier’s face contort with temporary panic.

He snorted. “I could break _myself_ out of here.” Genesis looked at him, the angles of his face sharper, his eyes more intense under scraggly dark hair. “But I’m not going to, because that’s no way to earn their trust.”

His hand snaked out through the bars and Kylo took it with his good hand. They sat in silence for a time, until Genesis asked, “What did they offer you?”

“I’m being tracked, monitored, and guarded. And I have to report to Luke tomorrow.”

“Ah.” _What do you think is going to happen now?_ he asked through the liminal space.

Kylo thought about it a moment. _I don’t know._ The silence returned, stretching and warping over an hour. When he got tired, he lay on the floor, staring up at the cold cement ceiling of the bunker. The floor was chilled, but he’d dealt with much worse. He slid into the liminal space, the warm and comforting peace between them. In the real world, he could do little more than hold Genesis’s hand, but inside their heads they could comfort each other.

 _It’ll be alright,_ Kylo thought, trying to reassure him.

_Oh, shut up. It won’t, but we’ll figure it out as we go._

After awhile, Ranier sighed heavily. “Are you just planning to stay here all night or something?”

“It’s a Force user thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” he groaned.

“You wanted this assignment, get used to it kid.”

_Cut him some slack._

_Nope. He wanted this job, I’m not going to just make it easy on him._

Genesis snorted.

* * *

After staying with Genesis until the early morning, Kylo got a couple quick hours of sleep and readied himself for the day. As he and the guard walked toward the mess hall, he said, “I’m supposed to be meeting with Luke this morning.”

Ranier looked at him miserably. “Can it wait? I’m off duty in 30 and I’d really rather not walk halfway to the other side of the island.”

Kylo glanced up at the chrono. “Sorry, pretty sure I’m late as it is.”

Outside of the compound, the airfield was a hub of activity, but Ranier turned off the path and went the other direction. The ground was overgrown and muddy but it was clear the narrow path through the woods had been walked regularly.

After a time, it opened up further as it became clear that many of the older trees had died off and rotted. Younger trees had grown up through the chaos, but their trunks were spindly in comparison to the older trees, and they didn’t have the full-grown height.

Where the trees finally ended, the path went over a crest and sloped downward into a crater, the lowest part of which had filled with a few inches of runoff from the rain.

From the crest, they could see two figures that danced back and forth, trading blows as their practice sabers flickered with inhuman speed.

“I’ll wait here as you speak to Master Skywalker,” Ranier said distractedly, watching Finn and Rey train.

Luke didn’t bother to turn to him as he approached. “So. I’ve been informed that I’m supposed to be training you again.”

“And I’ve been informed that I’m supposed to be learning from you.”

“Hmpf.” Luke turned to face him and crossed his arms. “At least we both know this is a terrible idea.”

“I don’t have a saber.”

“You won’t be needing one.” Luke sighed. “Meet me here tomorrow at dawn.”

If they were going to do this, he needed to start off on the right foot. “Thank you.”

Luke laughed bitterly as he walked away. “Don’t thank me yet.”

Kylo began climbing back up the path to the ledge.

“What, that’s it? We walked all the way out here for _that_?” Ranier groaned behind him.

“Yeah.”

* * *

That evening, under the watchful eye of a new guard named Fris, Kylo went to go visit Genesis again. He looked drained, paler than usual, with the impression of exhaustion and faint relief coming through the liminal space between their minds. “So. It seems I’m a…somewhat free man.”

Kylo’s breath caught. “What did they offer you?”

“From the sound of things, similar to what they offered you. I’m being tracked, monitored, and guarded. And I’m to report to Luke in the morning with you. Oh, and the other chip you’ve got.” He touched the back of his neck, a couple inches behind his right ear, pointing out a small bacta patch. He said it offhand, as if he could hide the ripple of fear that flickered through the liminal space.

Kylo’s chest tightened. “The…”

“Yeah.”

“They didn’t have to do that.”

“It’ll be alright. We’ll prove it’s an unnecessary measure.” Genesis said it casually, trying to hide the uncertainty in his voice. “And I can’t actually blame them, given my history.”

The guard cleared his voice behind them. “I understand neither of you technically has a curfew, but I’ve got a request coming through on my comm to have you down to the mess an hour before dawn tomorrow, well rested. So could you maybe speed things up?“

Genesis glared at the guard and looked back to Kylo. “We can talk more about this tomorrow.”

* * *

The next morning when his alarm rang to wake him, it was still dark, and everything hurt.

“Associated pain,” they’d said. “Phantom pain. You might feel it a bit in the missing hand. Your nerves are still firing, and will continue to do so until they fuse fully with the interfacing.”

That had been an understatement.

Even as his body tried to heal around the implants, his nerves refused to acknowledge that they ought to accept the foreign material. Pain stabbed up through his shoulder and chest, as if coming from the hand that no longer existed. His nerves were on fire, and after the first few hazy days on painkillers, he balked at the idea, preferring to grit his teeth through it rather than admitting he feared the reduction in his sensitivity to the Force.

It was almost better than the pain when half of his arm had begun rotting away of its own accord. The medics had taken it off mid-forearm, removing everything that showed signs of necrosis. The combination of machine and man wasn’t entirely seamless, and even when the nerve endings weren’t going haywire it still burned or itched or ached, as though his fingers were still there and his hand and arm hadn’t been replaced with bio-alloy plating and sockets.

With a deep breath, Kylo dragged himself from his cot and got ready for the day.

They met up in the mess hall, the first day of a new routine. Prep, breakfast, then out to the crater under guard, where they were transferred into Luke’s custody.

As they made their way down the trails that switchbacked the side of the crater to the central space, Genesis looked around, radiating mildly impressed vibes.

Luke didn’t have much to say. He simply pointed to part of the slope, worn down but clearly traversable. “Until the others show up, you’ll be doing basic physical training.”

Genesis’s eyes widened as he took in the slope and Kylo knew there was no way it could end well for him.

An hour later, and Genesis was a mess. When he’d been an officer on the _Finalizer_ , he’d kept up the required fitness regimen, but in the months since then, there had been no routine he’d been forced to follow and he’d lost much of the muscle mass he’d had. By the time Luke called them back toward the center of the crater upon the arrival of the others, Genesis was struggling. Luke almost smiled looking at him. “You’ll be working with Finn today. Physical training.”

“Yes sir.” Genesis took a deep breath that might have been a gasp in disguise and went to Finn, who looked him up and down and shook his head.

“Master Skywalker, what, precisely, do you want me to achieve here with him?” Finn asked, pointing to Genesis.

“Physical training. Start with the basics, you can move on to hand to hand combat later if you feel he can handle it. I leave it in your capable hands.” Luke nodded to them, then turned to Kylo. “Ben, you’re with me. You’ll be working on meditative techniques for awhile, sometimes with me, sometimes with Rey. We need you centered and focused if you’re to be a help to us as opposed to a hindrance.”

The exercises Luke asked of him left him drained and dizzy come evening, but Luke didn’t seem outwardly dissatisfied with him, so he persisted. Four days passed before he had the chance to talk to Genesis in private again.

“He’s got me training with both Rey and Finn now, and I’m hopelessly outclassed with a training saber.” Genesis sat down stiffly across the table from him. It was tucked into a remote corner of the makeshift mess hall, a small room far unlike those in the Order. Kylo was warily conscious of those around them, constantly on the lookout for anyone that might be aware of Genesis’s real identity that wanted to stir up trouble. “Getting the shit beaten out of me is getting old.”

“It’s good for you.”

“Tell my arms that.” He rucked up a sleeve to his elbow, revealing purpling bruises across his knuckles, wrist, and arm. “I feel like I was trampled by a bantha.” He managed a forkful of something unidentifiable, grimacing as he chewed. The rations were boring, but not so tasteless or processed as those in the First Order mess halls. Regional foods had been incorporated into the menu, spices and flavors that reminded Kylo of his childhood. Genesis picked at his food as they spoke.

Over the course of dinner, Kylo worked the details of the few days out of him. Once they’d arranged for Genesis to be allowed in the general facilities with an escort, he settled into a pattern much like Finn and Rey’s. Wake, combat training as Finn saw fit, breakfast, train, break for recovery and a round of conditioning, train until dinner, and then weapon maintenance and sleep.

In every physical aspect, Genesis struggled to keep up with them, and it showed. He wasn’t weak, but he certainly wasn’t strong. The scavenger, now that she was being properly fed, was probably in the best shape of her life, and Finn was a former Trooper, trained for extremes. Both of them were in prime physical condition. Genesis was more wiry than anything, more than a decade off the field of combat, and rusty. Needless to say, it wasn’t to his advantage.

“Do you feel like you’re improving?”

Genesis nodded slowly. “A bit.”

Through the link, Kylo heard _Not enough, and not fast enough._

* * *

There wasn’t much more to the pattern they fell into. Wake, train for most of the day, discuss potential strategies to use against the Order in the evenings if any officers had questions of them, sleep.

Even when they gave him the opportunity, Genesis didn’t seem willing to stop. Any time one of the others was available, he’d volunteer as a sparring partner. Kylo didn’t have to be present to feel the continual bursts of disappointment as Rey or Finn beat the hell out of him. He hauled himself up, over and over again, working until his limbs shook and barely held him up.

Luke permitted Kylo to do only mild physical training, forcing him to hone his meditative techniques and ignoring physical training almost entirely. Meditation was strenuous in its own right. He could handle most of the slow poses Luke talked him through, but he often found himself shaking from the sustained muscular strain.

Every time he saw Genesis he looked like he’d been put through the wringer. The strain was evident across the liminal space, as whenever Kylo had the time and mental capacity to reach out and try to get a read on him the strain came through as bone-deep exhaustion. Some days he seemed to make it through out of sheer spite. Occasionally in the evening they were given time to see each other, and Kylo helped him repeat the same drills they had for months, reinforcing Genesis’s connection to him through the liminal space and helping him feel the Force as a living thing. It was a small, soft sort of balm to the constant mental and physical aches and pains. Even so, they could handle it. They’d seen worse at Snoke’s hands.

After three weeks of the same thing, day in, day out, the feeling of impending disaster lingered. _Not enough, and not fast enough._

* * *

It was early evening as they were wrapping up yet another day of training when Kylo finally worked up the courage to broach the topic of balance in the Force with Luke, as Rey had told him he ought to. “Luke?”

His former master opened his eyes and looked at him, the shadows under his eyes deeper than ever. “Hm.”

“May I ask a question?”

“You just have.” His mouth turned up at the corners, ever so faintly.

“Another.”

“I’m listening.”

A shiver ran down Kylo’s back. “Rey said I ought to talk to you about your…theories about the Force.”

“Did she now?”

“Would you be willing to?”

Luke didn’t look back. “Come back tomorrow and continue with your meditation as you have been. We’ll see.”

* * *

The next day, it seemed like Luke had forgotten his request. He didn’t mention it at all, and Kylo found himself trying to steer the conversation in that direction.

“Rey explained the…basics of your theory.” Kylo took a deep breath and forced himself to maintain the inner calm of a meditative state as he tried to steer Luke into a conversation. “About power and control and a balance between them.”

“I see.”

“Where did you even come up with something like that?”

Luke shook his head. “You won’t believe the story even if I tell you.”

“Try me.”

“Your mother.”

“What?” The calm he’d held in the space between his ribs fractured, snapping him fully out of the meditative state. He knew she’d been trained in the Force by Luke, shortly after the fall of the Empire. He knew the stories, they’d been a huge part of his childhood. “But she never…”

Luke fixed him with a stare. “Do you want the story or not?”

Kylo fell silent.

“Both of us were strong in the Force, but it was only after the Empire’s fall that we were able to really consider that connection. Together, we balanced each other out. It was easier for me to reach the Force. We didn’t understand it at the time, it’s taken decades of thought to fully realize the implications.” Luke shifted, settling and considering his nephew in front of him. “It wasn’t a theory when the Empire fell, just…a feeling. Something I didn’t understand, and had no way to gain an understanding of. Most of the old Jedi literature I’ve been able to hunt down over the years simply warned against the Dark side and gave stories of its fall. What few texts I could recover on the Dark side were equally unhelpful.” Luke sighed and stood up. “Walk with me. This feels too…confined, to sit here.”

Kylo followed.

“In gathering so many Force users in one place, the Jedi enforced the theories and practices of the Light side. Control. Detachment. Calm. Those that could not achieve such things, often those that would have been more naturally inclined toward what they called the Dark side, were removed from the program. Most of the time, the high council determined that those individuals were too dangerous to live.”

“So…at the time, Force users as a whole were extremely unbalanced?”

“Good, you’re beginning to see.” Luke clasped his hands behind his back, slowing his pace faintly. “Generally, it worked. Until they let one Anakin Skywalker into the program. And that’s when everything went to hell.”

They walked along the ridge in silence for a time as Luke considered. “Ben Kenobi, who trained him, was more inclined toward the Light, but extremely powerful, even in that. The two of them together were…” he shook his head, “absurdly skilled Force users. Skywalker could draw on the deepest powers of the Force, and Kenobi helped keep him in control. I have no proof, but I believe that exchange went both directions. They were practically legends in the Clone Wars.”

“Right.”

“When Palpatine turned them against each other, they fell. All it took to drive your grandfather to slaughter was the removal of the people around him that kept him in control. Your mother and I balanced each other without conscious thought for decades, and only managed to put two and two together after,” his voice tightened, although he kept it carefully in check, “the school failed.”

Guilt washed over him again, but there was no use trying to block it out. Still, Kylo found himself unsure what Luke expected of him. An apology? Unlikely. It would ring false, and that was almost worse than no apology at all.

“Still. Too little, too late, it seems,” Luke eventually continued. “I only wish I’d realized it sooner. Anyway. Where was I? Oh, right. Even when old Ben trained me, he was in a weakened state. Still brilliant, of course, but less able to access the deeper parts of the Force. I didn’t see him at the top of his abilities until the final battle, where he and Vader faced off.”

“You’ve told me about that before.”

Luke frowned. “But it was…it wasn’t about the physical duel that occurred. The majority of that battle was fought invisibly, a mental battle in the Force. I didn’t understand it at the time, but both your mother and I felt it.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Luke stared him down for a long moment. Kylo felt his skin crawl. “Still impatient for answers I see.”

The impression that Luke was chastising him like a child rankled. A surge or irritation welled up, crawling up his throat until he bit down on it. Arguing would do no good here.

It became clear that he had made the right decision as Luke’s stare softened. “Better. And to answer your question, nothing, really. Simply that opposing sides of the Force, once brought together in differently inclined users, enhance each other. Old Ben and my father. Your mother and I.”

They walked in silence for another minute before Luke spoke again. “It’s my belief that Vader needed what would traditionally have been a Light side user to balance him, and I was the perfect person. We already had the family connection, and when we connected through the Force, he was able to…surface from the depths somewhat. I won’t say it was a complete reversal, but it was enough for him to break the Emperor’s grip. From what Rey has told me, it sounds like you’ve done the same over the last few months with Genesis’s unknowing help.” Luke smiled a bit. “Fate smiled on you, pairing you up with someone that can balance you as he does.”

Silence again. Kylo considered his next question carefully. “Do you…believe in the will of the Force?”

The smile vanished. “Hm. Why do you ask?”

“Why I…everything is…” he struggled, unable to truly put it into words. He finally settled for, “If the aim is balance, why would the Force let me sway so far one way? Why would it let me do…what I did?” His gut twisted with guilt. Even listening to his uncle’s theories about power and control and balance did nothing to assuage the sting. And frankly, he knew he didn’t deserve any sort of relief.

“The Force is a living thing, Ben. I don’t think it can tell the difference between good and bad, only balance.” He shook his head. “The will of the Force may not always be what we hope it is.”

“Then why follow it?”

He nodded approvingly. “Now you’re asking the right questions.”

“…and…?”

They stopped on the edge of the ridge, overlooking the crater. Luke looked distant. “Given enough time, the Force consumes us all. It doesn’t care if you’re a part of the dark or the light, if you give in to the raw power of it or if you seek control. The Force doesn’t distinguish between passion and peace, or chaos and order. The Force simply…exists.” He turned back to look at him, his eyes unreadable with a pain Kylo couldn’t understand. “It didn’t exist to serve the Sith or the Jedi. Likewise, it does not exist to serve us.”

The thought that had been growing for some time surfaced again. “There is no black and white.”

“Everything is grey.” Luke turned away, watching the others spar. Then he finally spoke again. “Ben?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to come to physical training with them tomorrow.”

Kylo snorted. “Right, because _she’s_ going to let me fight.” They both knew who ‘she’ was.

Luke shrugged. “I’ve got other reasons. Be there.”

* * *

That evening, they were moved into the same room. More Resistance staff was being moved to the base, even with as small as it was, and they needed as much space as they could get.

They were escorted there, reminded that they were still under constant surveillance, and left to themselves once the door locked behind them. The room was nicer than the cells they’d had, and something about it made Kylo uneasy. It didn’t take long to find the cameras and microphones as they looked around.

Genesis opened the two doors closest the door that had been locked behind them. He whistled. “There’s a ‘fresher in here.”

“The lap of luxury, compared to what we’ve dealt with,” Kylo said sarcastically.

“I’m not about to complain,” Genesis said with a shrug as he pulled off his boots and peeled off his jacket. “I’m disgusting.”

“Luke wants me to join you guys for physical training tomorrow,” Kylo said as Genesis disappeared into the fresher, the door still open behind him. It was the first time in a couple weeks he’d been able to be physically near Genesis in private, and it was…disconcerting.

“Really? Are you…” there was a pause and Genesis popped back out, clearly wanting to be face to face for this conversation. “Are you ready for that?” He glanced down at the prosthetic, his meaning clear.

“Not sure. One way to find out.”

Genesis made a noncommittal noise as he turned back toward the ‘fresher. “Just…don’t hurt yourself in the process.”

“Worried about me?”

“Of course.”

And that was the end of the conversation. Kylo flopped on his back on the bed as Genesis went to shower and something about it was eerily reminiscent of the early days they’d been involved on the _Finalizer_. Multiple shifts and Hux would refuse to let him so much as touch him before he’d cleaned up.

Kylo stared at the ceiling. Everything was different, yet it was all the same. Hux was gone, Genesis was here, they were different people, but something about him screamed that they were the same person. Nothing fully made _sense_.

He closed his eyes, letting himself slip away until the ‘fresher door slid open again. There was the sound of a zipper, then cloth moving around and the distant dissatisfied thought from Genesis _this would be easier if anything they gave me actually fit_. Then various movement around the room. Muffled footsteps of bare feet. Quiet sounds that reassured Kylo that he was still there, even as his mind drifted.

The bed moved with the weight of him and Kylo pulled himself back to the present, opening his eyes to find Genesis in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were several sizes too big for him. Ugly bruises mottled his skin varying shades of yellow and green and purple. Stringy muscle and connective tissue slid over bone as he moved, his ribs jutting out unnaturally. He was thinner than before, and without the jacket it was clear he’d dropped what weight he’d managed to put on over the months on the _Revenge_.

A surge of emotion that tasted horribly of helplessness welled up in his chest, and Genesis’s eyes snapped to him. “Don’t you dare laugh, I know I look ridiculous.”

“Have you been eating?”

Kylo got a shrug in return. “Yes.”

“You’ve dropped weight.”

The glare he got in return was piercing. Familiar. “Clearly. I’m stressed. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t even remotely fine, but that same surge of helplessness welled up in his chest again and he bit down on an argument.

Genesis looked at him, considering, then swung a leg over his hips and climbed over him to sit across his lap. “You’ve been looking at me like a Screamer looking at a piece of meat.”

“Have not.” His voice was rough and he cleared his throat. Kylo forced himself to look up and match his stare. Up close, he could see the way Genesis’s eyes, pale had faded further into grey. He looked ill, like he was withering away.

Genesis leaned in and Kylo let himself sink into the kiss pressed to his lips, simple and sweet. It was easy to bask in the affection and want that melted through the liminal space, warmth like sitting in the sun.

It was fine until Genesis reached for his belt, and Kylo snapped forward unintentionally. The prosthetic reacted at the same speed he did, although the grimace he got in response to the grip about Genesis’s wrist was telling. “We’re under watch,” he said quietly, loosening his grip.

“What’s left to be ashamed of at this point?”

_Someone is watching._

_I don’t care._

_Are you insane?_

_Please?_ A couple of images floated across the link and Kylo wanted and that was…he couldn’t think logically. “No I’m…listen, I’m _not_ having you suck me off in front of whoever is watching those cameras.” Kylo didn’t want to think about it but he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it, who it might be watching the surveillance. Every option was horrible.

Genesis gave him a wry look of amusement but removed his hands and shrugged it off. Instead, he flopped his weight on the bed next to Kylo and pressed close to his side talking about other things until he fell asleep.

Perhaps it was his proximity to Genesis that did it, but the dreams came back full-force that night.

* * *

_In the half-light of a dawn, he can see him standing on the edge of the crater, arms crossed in front of him. The edges of his hair that catch the light seem to glow a faint pink-orange._

_“Genesis?”_

_Silence. He doesn’t respond. Kylo tries again._

_“…Hux?”_

_That gets a faint response. He takes a deep breath and sighs, turning to face Kylo. “What does it matter anymore?” Kylo knows the blaster in his hand, the sleek SE-44C fingerprint coded for his use. General Hux’s use._

_He doesn’t flinch as he pulls the trigger, slamming a blaster bolt through Kylo’s chest. For a moment it doesn’t register. Hux doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, follows through for a count of one with his finger on the trigger. Kylo looks down at his chest, unsurprised to find singed gristle and meat and bone visible through his shirt. Blood wells up sluggishly despite the mass of burned flesh, and it slowly saturates his shirt._

_“Ben!”_

_He registers the shout, the presence in his head, then looks at Hux, who is clean-shaven and dressed head to toe in Order black. The blaster in Hux’s hands pounds two more shots into his chest and levels at his head for a moment before a crack splits the air and Hux crumples._

_Standing behind him is…Hux again. Or rather, Genesis. He looks scrappy and afraid of the pistol in his hand. Kylo knows he’s dying as Genesis scrambles up over the ridge of the crater and around the other version of himself to get to Kylo._

_“Ben, stay with me, don’t…!”_

* * *

Waking was sudden, silent. One moment he was dying, the next he was staring up at the darkness of the ceiling above. He could hear breath beside him, quick and unsteady.

“Is that what you think of me?” Genesis’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“No.” Kylo tried to gather his thoughts, but the shape next to him didn’t respond. “No, I didn’t mean…I don’t know.” He was going to ruin everything, simply because he couldn’t control the mess of thoughts that tumbled through his head when he slept.

A hand laced through Kylo’s, cautious at first, then firm. Steady.

“You alright?”

“Not really. But I will be.”

Sleep didn’t come back. Instead, it was darkness and comfort. Genesis let Kylo curl around him, wrapping an arm about his chest and pulling him close. Even in the wake of the nightmare, it was hard not to grind against the contact of his hips. Filthy thoughts overflowed into the liminal space, and eventually, Genesis groaned at the contact. “What the hell do you _really_ want?”

“You.”

_You couldn’t have decided that hours ago when I was begging you to let me suck you off?_

Kylo tucked his chin into the crook between Genesis’s neck and shoulder, trying to bury the feelings of shame and self-consciousness that had kept him from making a move earlier. _No_.

 _Ah._ It’s an awkward silence as Genesis runs through options. _We can go back to sleep and pretend this never happened._

His skin burns, in part with humiliation but more at the proximity. _How do you not care about them watching?_

_I’m already beyond any sort of redemption in their eyes, would could I do that could possibly make it worse?_

“It could always be worse.”

Genesis snorted, but the liminal space resonated with fondness, not irritation. “Get your hands on me or go the fuck to sleep. I’m tired and it sounds like tomorrow is going to be hellish if you’re starting the same nonsense.”

Need sparked under his skin and he crushed the idea of backing out. “No, I…there are blankets, it’ll be....”

And there, finally, a spark of frustration through the bond. “Then stop stalling and just _touch_ me already. Bacta’s on the table, there’s a packet from the med kit in the bathroom.”

After weeks apart, neither of them could last long, but it was enough, being close was enough. The bond that thrummed in the liminal space rang gold and true again, the haze of distance from the past few weeks lifting.

Later, tucked under his arm, Genesis looked tired and worn, almost nothing like the man he’d once been. His breath was soft, relaxed, but something in his core seemed to rattle. Kylo’s chest ached.

He didn’t sleep any more that night.

* * *

“Keep your guard up you. Absolute. Bastard.” Finn snapped with each blow of the practice saber. He brought it down on Genesis with little mercy, giving him no opening and fighting as if to take no prisoners. Genesis staggered, and as Kylo watched he could distantly feel the pain ringing in his joints with every blow.

“I would but…ah, fuck… I don’t…agh…” Finn slammed the practice blade into Genesis’s ribs and his breath whooshed out, accompanying the crackle of electricity that the practice saber emitted. He groaned and crumpled for a moment, giving Finn just enough time to thump him in the back of the neck with the hilt of the blade.

“And you’re dead. Again.”

“Fuck,” he spit.

“Up. Get some water and we’re going again.”

Genesis pulled himself back up and took a deep breath. “You ever going to get tired of beating the shit out of me?”

Finn was almost amused. “Not likely.”

Rey sat off to the side with Kylo, watching in silence.

_You’re opening your guard on your right side._

Over his canteen, Genesis glared at him. _Got any suggestions that will actually help?_

_Close it._

_Thanks. Eloquent as ever._

By the time Luke arrived from the base after the daily operations report, Kylo was not only starting to pinpoint weaknesses, but trying to mentally nudge Genesis in the right direction.

Luke seemed to sense it. “Ben, you’ll be working with Rey. Stop focusing on them for now, look inward.”

Rey pushed herself off the stone she’d occupied and stretched. Kylo eyed the scavenger warily, remembering their last fight. “On what?”

“Basic drills. Practice sabers only. And Ben?” Luke almost smiled. “Put emphasis on working saber drills with the prosthetic on your primary side. You’ll need the flesh and bone one to manipulate the Force more effectively.”

* * *

Drilling forms was hellish.

The practice saber in his hand felt wrongly weighted. He couldn’t tell if it was the saber itself or the neural responses from the prosthetic or both, but it felt _wrong._ Every muscle in his body ached, many months out of practice despite his attempts at consistent meditation while traveling. Without his lightsaber, it had felt useless to practice live combat forms, and ideal forms could only do so much to keep him battle-ready.

On top of bodily aches and pains, he found it difficult to focus as he once had. Even when practicing the most basic drills, he found himself becoming unfocused on his own work and mentally correcting Genesis’s form.

When Rey finally called a halt, he sat and tried to focus himself. It was nearly impossible, and even as he thought about it he felt the pain and shock of a practice saber echo through his shoulder as Genesis failed to block a blow.

“You need to learn how to disconnect from him.”

Kylo opened his eyes to find Rey sitting down across from him on the mat again. “What?”

“You’re getting drawn into his fight instead of focusing on your own.”

“And what would you suggest?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have the solution. I’m simply pointing out the problem.”

* * *

Day in, day out, he worked with Rey to recover the finer points of his own saber skills. The day after mentioning how the practice saber felt wrong, Rey brought Anakin’s old lightsaber to training. Kylo wasn’t prepared for the slew of emotions that rolled in his chest at the sight of it.

“I’ve built my own, and so has Finn. Luke wants nothing to do with it. I can’t help but think maybe you’re supposed to have it.”

He snorted. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Not on Starkiller, no. But things have changed.” She held it out.

He took it hesitantly, as if expecting it to reject him again, but no such thing happened. The older alloy was heavy in his hands and faintly warm. Kylo flicked his wrist, thumbing the switch. The kyber crystal sang and the blade flared to life, vibrant blue.

He could feel the warmth of the plasma as he lifted it, the blue glow blazing in the lowering light. It felt _right_ , even moreso than his own saber had felt before the incident on Starkiller, and he longed for something that wouldn’t, couldn’t be his.

It _should_ have been his. The saber, the Skywalker legacy, they were all supposed to have been his and he turned his back on them. Even now, he didn’t want them on his shoulders, not really. But the lightsaber…

Regret burned in his chest as he reluctantly turned it off and shook his head, holding the saber back out to her. “I’m not worthy of it.”

“But now you acknowledge that.” Rey looked at him curiously for a moment, then shook her head and refused to take it. “You know, one of my worst memories of you is you screaming at me in the forest.” The word sent a shiver down Kylo’s spine, a reminder.

“That lightsaber belongs to me,” they said in tandem, echoing his words so many months ago.

She nodded. “You might not think you’re worthy of it, but I still think you should use it. I don’t think this saber truly belongs to anyone. But it’ll serve you, if it wants to.”

Doubt crawled down his spine. He shook his head. “I don’t think…”

“It’s not about what you think. Listen.” She stared him down.

Kylo was quiet for a moment, slowly growing more agitated. “To what?”

Rey took a breath and sighed. “Take it. And use the rest of the day to meditate and really think it through. And _listen_. You’ll hear him.”

“Wh…” He never got the question out as it dawned on him. “No.”

Rey frowned. “Anakin’s been trying to reach out to you for years, but you haven’t been listening.”

“I’ve tried, he’s not there.”

“He is. Just…trust me on this.”

* * *

Meditation brought conflicting thoughts with it, insecurities and overconfidence warring inside his head. The blade didn’t fight him as it once had, but it still felt like he was trying to wrangle an oiled womp rat. Each time he thought he had a firm mental hold on it, it slipped away.

“You need to bring yourself back to level. Find a sense of control again.”

Kylo cracked his eyes open to find Luke looking down at him, frowning. “Did Rey tell you she thinks I should have this?”

He held the saber out to Luke, whose frown deepened. “She mentioned it, yes.”

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s…practical. A woman who grew up using what resources she had in the most…efficient manner.”

“And?”

Luke sighed. “And she’s solved a problem by redistributing those resources as she saw fit.”

“You don’t approve.”

“No.”

“Then you should have it.” Kylo held the hilt out to him, making a last attempt to get one of them to take it from him.

“No. I don’t approve, but I do…agree that it’s the most practical course of action.” Luke grimaced. “But let’s avoid repeating the past.”

* * *

Another two weeks passed this way. Genesis slowly improved, the old bruises fading and the new bruises coming less frequently. Kylo grew accustomed to the prosthetic and Luke began to push him physically, watching his duels with Rey and critiquing both of them heavily.

Finally, he called the four of them together. “I want to see how the two of you,” he nodded to Rey and Finn, “handle the two of them,” he nodded to Kylo and Genesis.

Genesis snorted. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“We can handle them,” Kylo said, stepping in.

“I think you’ll manage better together, although…well.” Luke smiled faintly. “They’ll give you a run for your money. All weapons stay in training mode, we don’t need any of you dead.”

 _You realize we’re going to get trashed, right?_ Kylo could feel faint humor and apprehension across the link.

_Have a little faith._

There wasn’t much to the start of it. Luke checked that all weapons were still locked in training mode, the plasma of the blades mostly blocked by an electromagnetic containment field. They separated, giving each other enough space to stretch. Luke removed himself from the area, saying nothing of what the rules might be for sparring fairly.

“So are we doing this?” Finn asked. Rey turned to him, gave a quick nod, and took off.

The first clash was hard and heavy, all four of them in close proximity, although it wasn’t long before Finn started pushing Genesis toward the slope. It took all of Kylo’s attention to guard against Rey’s relentless attacks, which were paced slightly too fast to let him recover, but not so fast that he felt the need to retreat. When she tried to control the direction of the fight, maneuvering him toward the other side of the crater, he pushed back toward Finn and Genesis, catching one end of her saber staff and lashing out with a kick to the gut as she nearly overbalanced.

She staggered but recovered so fast he had little time to change his plan as Rey’s attention flickered aside for a moment and she swept Genesis’s feet out from under him with the Force. He stumbled and caught himself, but not quickly enough to avoid being hit. Finn nailed him in the shoulder with a swipe, searing fabric and skin but doing no permanent damage.

As Kylo fought to guard against Rey’s attacks, he registered that his shoulder ached from pain that sparked through the bond. He could feel the strain on Genesis as he tried to keep himself connected to the Force around him, the way it dragged at him and stretched his strength thin.

“Use your bonds, you’re stronger together!” Luke shouted from the ridge.

Even as Rey pursued him, Kylo reached for the Force, drawing power up from the depths and letting it flow through the bond. He parried, catching each blow and fending it off. She reached with the Force and shifted the ground underfoot, and he adapted even as he used the Force to throw a wave of dust and rubble from the recently-dry floor of the crater at her in an attempt to obscure her vision.

As he focused on the physical fight with Rey, he drew inward and passed what power he could spare on to Genesis, who was still hanging on only through avoidance of attacks. Head to head he stood little chance, but given space to maneuver an opponent he might be able to get the upper hand on Finn.

It was a terrifying multithread that threatened to overwhelm Kylo, but he held it in check as Genesis’s influence and restraint flowed back through the bond. The fear, the overwhelming certainty that he couldn’t control the well of power was gone. With Genesis’s metaphorical hand guiding the draw, he could begin to delve deeper, breathe even as the Force threatened to crush him.

And…there. Clear of the dust, Rey’s eyes flickered and she grinned, an ancient, terrifying thing in her expression. “You’re starting to see the potential.”

“Shut up.”

“Well? What are you waiting for?” She drew back and slammed him in the ribs with her saber staff, faster and harder than he could ever hope to catch. The shock of the electromagnetic field punched him back, throwing him back. Even as he wheezed, trying to gather his wits, she followed it up with a kick, impossibly strong for her size, that nailed him in the ribs and threw him on his back. He could taste ozone in the air and feel the echoes of the Force in the action, strength she ought not be able to control.

And that was the trick, wasn’t it? Finn’s control was hers, her power was his, and Kylo knew he and Genesis didn’t stand a chance if they couldn’t maintain a similar pattern.

On his feet again, he dove deep and moved, lashing out with the lightsaber even as he braced and followed it up with a wave of Force that knocked her guard up and out of the way. She was still too fast, managing to dodge the blow, but it was a close call.

A yelp of, “fuck!” and a faint spark of pain behind his left eye distracted him, only for a moment. Rey jumped on the opportunity, whipping her saber staff around and bringing it down on his good shoulder. He managed to block it, but only just. The strength of the blow crunched his shoulder in the socket, and the impact that followed it hurt nearly as much.

By the time he recovered, she had danced out of range. It was clear Rey managed the environment better, as decades of traversing sand dunes on foot had given her an impeccable sense of balance on a shifting surface. She picked a spot slightly uphill and dared him to follow, giving her an advantage of both footing and high ground.

Instead, he hung back, inwardly observing how Genesis fared until she took the bait. He didn’t have to wait long for her to decide she had the upper hand and close distance.

As she pursued, he gave her space, trying to stay in the optimal range. Physically, it should have been the same as their last face-off. She was spry, but he had the advantage of reach on her. He knew it ought to be enough to slip through her defenses if only he could time it right.

But once on the offensive she was persistent, never easing up on either physical or Force attacks, and there was nowhere else to run or recover.

There was a downpour of rocky debris and Genesis slid halfway down the slope of the crater, desperately trying to regain his feet as he fell. Kylo’s attention wavered to Genesis only for a moment, but it was enough to give Rey the opening she’d been waiting for.

She reached into the Force and Kylo could feel how deep she pulled from. The hair on his arms stood on end, a cold shudder rippled across his skin, and the Force tightened about his throat as he desperately tried to understand what was happening. And then the tension in his chest constricted and airflow…stopped.

There was a blinding instant of realization before the surprise caught him and he choked.

As he reached for his throat, Rey ripped his saber from his other hand with the Force, slinging her saber staff to hang over her shoulder. She braced, taking a solid stance and drawing more heavily on the Force to block his access.

He fought for a breath and it abruptly occurred to him, _she’s too powerful._ The thing in her eyes, something primeval from the deepest parts of the Force, gave her complete dominance. Never before had Kylo felt so powerless.

Until she let him go, dropped him to his knees. “Get your guard up!”

“It…is…!” he grasped, desperate for air.

“You aren’t even trying!” The pressure came back, twice as heavy, restricting him entirely and yanking him off the ground before he had the chance to get his breath back. The anger in her expression, he’d seen it before, it was the fury she’d unleashed on Starkiller and it wasn’t going to accept a surrender.

Kylo knew, in the same way he knew gravity’s pull was inexorable, that she was going to kill him.

He reached for the Force, for anything. He wanted to live. He just wanted to keep living, it wasn’t his time yet and there was still a faint flare of blue fire under his skin and he reached for it, frantic, and…that was it.

The world cracked and lit up, blinding, and he fell to the ground again as her hold broke.

“Rey!” there was a yell, but it was half out of focus as he desperately sucked air down, as if trying to put out the fire that burned in his lungs.

As he blinked away the spots left on his vision from the flash, he could feel Genesis’s surprise, then horror, through the bond. When he could see, he found Rey on her forearms and knees, down on the ground and shaking.

He retched, throwing up breakfast rations until there was nothing left but bile, and then he dry-heaved until his gag reflex stopped. He wavered on his feet, watching Rey curl in on herself, chest nearly to her tucked knees as she wheezed. Finn and Genesis had stopped, watching them warily as if unsure if they should intervene.

He looked up toward the ridge, searching for Luke. This had to be enough. Whatever point Luke was trying to prove, it had to be enough, what more could he possibly ask of them? Luke was nowhere to be seen, and he looked back…

…only to feel a sick twist of fear in his gut as Rey climbed to her feet.

This time it was harder to reach for the fire under his skin, the power of it diminished. He threw bolt after bolt of Force lightning at her, but she caught them on her saber staff. Nothing seemed to slow her as he began to burn out and he could feel his chest starting to constrict again and he scrambled backward and uphill but there was nowhere to go that he could get away from her and where the hell had his saber gone?

And then the air was gone and his ribs were crushing inward and the world shuddered. He met her eyes, where something deep and primal stared back, hungry for blood.

There was nothing to grab and fight, and even if there had been, he couldn’t move his arms. The Force felt far away, distant like he was looking at it, feeling it, through the scope of a rifle. Genesis was a blur, nothing more than a faint gold through the link, where he could distantly hear _Ben!_ if he really focused.

The echo of a scorching burn washed across his shoulder, mostly ignored as the heat rose in his eyes and the world started to waver around him. As the link between their minds blurred and faded in and out of existence, Genesis caught ahold of it and reinforced it honing it until it thrummed gold, a rich amber lash that held him tight and refused to let him go.

“Rey!”

The constriction around his ribs eased, ever so slightly.

“Rey.”

And then the pressure was gone, and he hit the ground and collapsed. By the time he came back to his senses, Genesis had flipped him over, flat on his back, and had fingers at his throat checking his pulse.

Rey was in a similar state, slumped across Finn’s lap like a rag doll as Luke felt her pulse.

“What the _hell_ was that?” Genesis snapped at them.

“It’s under control.”

“That wasn’t control, that was…!”

“It’s under control,” Luke repeated. He shifted uncomfortably, but held firm. “Maybe not her control, but it’s definitely under Finn’s.”

“What!?”

“We’re done for today.” Luke stood up, evidentially satisfied as Rey tried to sit up. “Take the rest of the day for recovery. Tomorrow too, if they need it. Meditate, try to think through this session and determine what you could have done better, and then clear your mind. “

With Genesis’s aid, Kylo managed to make it back to the base. Food was likely important, as was a trip to the ‘fresher, but Kylo passed out on top of the blankets, too burned out to think about anything else.

* * *

The next day, the exhaustion continued. Kylo felt like he was facing the worst hangover of his life, and when they met up with Finn and Rey in the mess hall, she seemed to be in a similar state.

Luke took it blessedly easy on them that day, assigning them mild physical exercises and meditation while Finn and Genesis sparred and worked drills.

“It seems we have a guest,” Luke interrupted them. “Take a break. Come back when you’re ready.”

A pilot made his way down the switchbacks that led down from the ridge. Rey and Finn dropped what they were doing and went to say hello. Judging by the warm greetings and hugs, they knew him well. Instead of following them, Genesis climbed up to join Kylo on the wide ledge he’d been meditating on.

As they got closer, Kylo’s stomach dropped. There was no avoiding this confrontation. He climbed to his feet, wanting nothing more than to run and hide so he wouldn’t have to face him, but Finn waved the two of them down.

When they met them down in the floor of the crater, Poe Dameron looked at him, taking him in but clearly not happy to see him. “Well Ben, looks like you fucked up.”

He blinked. “That’s…all you have to say?”

Poe frowned. “I have a lot more to say, but it’s not going to help anyone at this point. So. We get through the next couple weeks alive, maybe I’ll give you a piece of my mind. For now,” he held out his hand, “I’m glad to hear you’re not actively trying to kill me anymore.”

Kylo shook it warily, ready for some sort of trap. None appeared, though Poe looked at the prosthetic with an expression he couldn’t read. He took a deep breath. “I can’t take the credit for that.”

“Yeah, so I heard.” He turned to Genesis with a dark look.

“Right. Formal introductions. Poe, this is Genesis.” Kylo could feel him flinch away both physically and mentally as he was pushed forward for introductions.

Poe’s expression darkened and he tensed. Rey put her hand on his shoulder as if to hold him back. “He’s no threat,” Rey said quietly.

He nodded, although he didn’t hold out a hand. “I’m sure we’ll have the chance to sit down and talk about it someday.”

Genesis nodded and straightened, although Kylo could feel the echoes of nausea through the bond.

He didn’t think anything more of it until two days later, when Genesis was missing at the mid-cycle meal. They’d parted after breakfast and Kylo had worked with Resistance intelligence officers to try to form a location model and map of Moraband. Questioning Rey at lunch sent him back out toward the training facility looking for both Poe and Genesis, nerves jangling as he found it empty. Reaching into the liminal space helped. He found Genesis highly focused on something, and it took little time to determine they were on the range.

There was no eminent threat in the air between them, and Kylo approached as casually as he could. There didn’t seem to be an easy way to check in on them without making his presence known, but it was still painfully awkward. Genesis took shots at a target so far away, Kylo could barely see it at all with the naked eye. Poe watched the target with binoculars, simply observing.

The only reaction Genesis had to a missed shot was the faint tilt of his head and an irritated vein of disappointment in the liminal space before he settled and lined up the next shot. When he finally sat up, Poe looked at him suspiciously, eyes narrowing with distaste. Faint fascination rippled across his expression after the next shot, a mere inch from the center of the target. “Why the hell did they make you a general instead of special ops?”

Genesis shrugged. “Suspect it had something to do with Snoke using me as a pawn since childhood.”

Poe shook his head and handed him a fresh flimsi cover to go re-set the target. Genesis adjusted the settings on the rifle, put it down, and sighed. “You know, I’m not asking for trust. I don’t think I deserve it. But this is…wearing on me.”

“You and I both.”

“…touché.” Genesis took the proffered cover and grabbed the mini-speeder on hand, whizzing off toward the target.

Kylo stood in silence as Poe picked up the rifle and looked over the settings, adjusting something before looking to him warily. “I get what he means,” Poe said. Kylo gave him a puzzled look until he elaborated. “Next to useless in physical combat, but hell if I’d want to be up against him on the field.”

“He’s a good shot.”

“He’s an impossible shot. I keep trying to trip him up, and fuck if he doesn’t somehow manage every single thing I ask of him.”

Kylo couldn’t help grinning. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m pissed the Order got him.” Poe carefully replaced the rifle as it had been. “A Force sensitive sniper? You know what we could have done with that?”

“We wouldn’t have done anything like this with him. He’d have been sent to Luke for traditional training, or we wouldn’t have known about it.” Kylo shook his head. “Did Rey tell you what they did to him?”

Poe’s eyes narrowed. “What _they_ did to _him_? You can’t be serious. He was a general, nobody…”

“Someone blocked off his access to the Force. When he was young. We had no idea he was even Force sensitive until I…inadvertently broke the walls they’d built in his head. I’m not saying it does anything for his case. I’m saying that even those within the Order weren’t exempt from its…less kind methods.”

Poe gave him a dark look. “I’m not going to get into this with you. If I had my way, neither of you would hear the end of it until you were locked up for life or dead.”

“And in his case, death might be the kindest option.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Poe snapped. “You tell the General Organa you love him and you tell me you want him dead? She spent half my first day here trying to convince me not to shoot him on sight, you know. Because he’s a strategic advantage, and you’re a strategic advantage, and I think it’s bullshit. As far as I’m concerned I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” He took a breath and tried to rein it in.

“I didn’t say I want him dead. I said that might be the kindest option. Did the General tell you what she did?”

“No. I’m working with the both of you simply because the General told me to, and she’s trusting you because Rey told her to, and I swear to any gods that might be left out there, so help me, if the two of you turn on us I will end you.”

“You won’t have to. We’ve both got an explosive implanted in our spines. If either of us turns, she blows them.”

“Good,” Poe said darkly. “I’ve already contemplated putting a bolt between his eyes myself so it’ll all be done with.”

They stared each other down for a moment, then Kylo nodded. “Good to know I can depend on someone to hate us openly after all of this.”

After a moment of uncertainty, Poe gave him a sardonic half-grin. “You know me. Can’t keep my mouth shut when I should.”

“It’s refreshing.”

“Fuck off.” Poe shook his head as Genesis came back, climbing off the mini-speeder and looking between the two of them before settling back in, flattening himself to the ground and adjusting the rifle. “Right. Fine. Did you actually need him for something?”

Genesis took a shot and swore as he realized his settings were completely different from how he’d left them.

“Nah. He’s all yours. You’re going too easy on him, though.”

“Fuck off Ben.” Genesis grumbled from the ground.

* * *

Poe’s arrival precipitated a final push to put a battle plan together. Air support was vital if they wanted to stand a chance of making it through the defenses, and there was no better support than his squadron.

Between training sessions, entire days were spent in strategic meetings, trying to come up with as many methods of attack as possible. Sitting in a counsel room all day was mind-numbingly dull, but Genesis seemed to find it interesting, even if he was still in the dark about certain elements of Resistance support. Kylo knew it was for security, the way they held some information back, but it was still irritating.

Poe leaned on the table, palms flat. “We need to take the fight directly to her. She won’t be expecting it, she doesn’t think we have the numbers.”

The General shook her head. “We _don’t_ have the numbers.”

“But we’ve got the element of surprise, and we have several things she doesn’t know about.”

“We know what planet she’s on, but we have next to no knowledge of the terrain, what kind of troops she has, we don’t know _enough_.”

“We have a bit more than nothing,” Kylo spoke up, “But all the intel I have on Moraband is outdated.”

“But you’ve been there,” Finn said. “Could you help us recreate a…facility map? Something to go on?”

“I can help with anything I remember but I was half conscious much of the time.”

Poe nodded. “It’s better than nothing.”

Two days of meetings produced a plan of attack that, while imperfect, could possibly work. Only one person attended, but remained silent the entire time. As the second day concluded, Rey brought everything to a halt with a quiet, “Master Luke? Will you go with us?”

Silence.

Finally, Luke nodded slowly. “If this is the choice of the Resistance, I will support it.”

Rey stared him down. “You’re certain?”

“I will go.” Luke turned to her, meeting her eyes and returning the look. Something unknowable passed between them and he nodded. “But. You know as well as I. Not everyone will survive.”

“You can’t give up hope before we’ve even launched an attack,” Poe said quickly.

“Poe, listen to him. I know it to be true. We both do.” General Organa’s expression twisted with pain. “We may stop Snoke, but it will come at a cost.”

Kylo could hear it in her voice. “You know what’s going to happen.”

She didn’t turn away from Poe, but she looked to Kylo over his shoulder. When she nodded, slowly, his heart sank. “I know.”

“Premonitions don’t always come true.”

Luke spoke up. “One of these will. We can feel it.”

“You’ve had more than one?”

She nodded. “Both of us. There are only so many scenarios. No matter how they play out, someone dies.”

“Is there anyone here not willing to make that sacrifice?” Poe looked around the room to more silence. Nobody moved. “Then…I think we’ve got the skeleton of a plan to build on.”

* * *

That night, Genesis settled with an ease he hadn’t for months. A quick scan of his surface thoughts showed that it was relief that they have a plan, a way forward that might not result in certain death. When Genesis finally fell asleep on the cot, turned on his stomach and tucked securely against Kylo’s chest, a sort of calm flooded him, a feeling of stillness and warmth.

What felt like forever ago, Hux took up space. He’d had the same narrow bone structure, but General Hux had filled whatever space he’d been in with overwhelming amounts of _presence_. Everything with him had been a constant fight, one that there was no way to win.

Now Kylo found he took up barely enough to fill the space between his arms when he wrapped them around Genesis’s ribs. And yet…this man could wreck him. A few words from him, the gut-wrenching possibility of _disappointment_ …Kylo knew he would collapse from the inside, and it would all be over.

Where Hux would have exploited that weakness and ripped him to shreds, Genesis seemed to share the same sense of vulnerability. All they could do was trust each other and hope they survived.

Between the warmth of proximity and the relative tranquility of the shared mental space, Kylo drifted off to sleep, knowing that even though the plan of attack was far from perfect, at least they stood a chance of getting out alive.

* * *

He was shaken awake by a hand on his shoulder.

“Get up.”

“What’s happening…?” Rey had moved on to waking Genesis, who blinked awake and looked up at her only for an instant before grabbing his shirt and whipping it over his head, something Kylo recognized as an echo of his years as a soldier.

“What’s going on?” he demanded as he pushed himself up blearily. Genesis half stumbled as he grabbed a boot, but he snapped into action with habit born of decades of military and academy discipline.

“We’re out of time, she’s here. She’s come for you.” Sounds began to kick up in the distance, first one he was almost too tired to understand, but then…sirens.

The deep thrum of ship drives powering up. Alarms. Then, blaster fire.

Rey’s eyes were glassy in the dark. “Snoke’s come for all of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I love all y'all thanks for putting up with my shit.


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